Things I Learned on Vacation

1) Ten year celebrations are way better than honeymoons. Probably because we've known each other for a lot longer, feel a lot more comfortable sharing the bathroom, and can appreciate the fact that real life is not about the stress of assembling wedding invitations, and therefore can benefit from a holiday.

2) My children can use a vacation from me once in a while. Especially if it's with their grandparents. Especially because their grandparents will do ridiculous things like take them to fly kites even when it's 40 degrees outside.

3) When Ben gets home from a trip and he's jet lagged and exhausted, it's real. He's not being a baby. (I'm not sure that this realization will result in my actually being nicer to him when he can't get out of bed in the morning, but one can hope.)

4) Spray tans are not worth the money when it will only take 5.5 minutes to turn your skin bright red.

5) Of all of the people on the beach, only about 2 percent of them are hot enough to make you feel awkward about your baby jiggle. About 80 percent of them are large enough to make you feel pretty darn good about it.

6) Reading is awesome and is best done when you don't have to cook a single meal.

7) The ocean is huge and scary, and has actual animals swimming around in it, which is also scary, but very cool.

8) I'm pretty convinced that there is something sketchy about Hawaii's statehood that smacks of American Imperialism. I did a little research on that, thank you wikipedia, and there seem to be at least a few native Hawaiians who would agree. (Add Hawaiian vacation to my list of fun things like Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July that I can't experience without guilt.)

9) The Big Island of Hawaii might be the most amazing place on the whole earth. I mean, seriously. God put beaches, a rain forest, black sand, pretty flowers, and perfect weather on a massive volcano that still spits lava into the ocean every once in a while.

10) Peanut butter and Cocoa Krispie sandwiches make a delicious breakfast.

11) Just because pineapples grow in Hawaii doesn't mean that you'll automatically get to eat them while you're there. For instance, you might go for an entire week and not get a single pineapple because you eat Cocoa Krispie sandwiches for breakfast instead of hotel buffet food. If that happens, you might need to order a pool-side mai tai just because they'll stick a pineapple spear in it. Even if that mai tai costs more than lunch. Because, with a pineapple in it, it practically is lunch. Right?

12) My husband? Is the best. And when the kids grow up and move out, we'll still have a lot of fun together.

13) Speaking of growing up, my kids are absolutely not allowed to grow up. Because then we have to deal with teenage girls in bikinis. And, whether we're talking about my sons or my daughter, I'm going to have a problem with teenage girls in bikinis.

Dear Ben, If I seem mad at you later....

...for no apparent reason, let me explain. Whatever you were doing today - however overwhelming, stressful or annoying it may or may not have been, you didn't have to do it here. Here, this lovely home that I've created for our family, is not a happy place to be today. It's filled with screaming (me) and whining (them) and other annoying noises (the toys). Everyone is tired but won't sleep and hungry but won't eat.

Talya's little midnight soiree that she decided to hold in our bed last night has left us all at wit's end.

Plus, my aerobics class (the one in which I pretty much peed my pants in last week but still managed to get the courage to show my face in today) got canceled, which means my highly motivated exercise plan has been thwarted three times this week.

Also, it is about 93 degrees in here today, and though it is making me absolutely nuts, I just cannot stand the thought of turning on the air conditioning in the end of September when we are weeks away from cursing the wind chill.

Now, you might be thinking, "none of this is really my fault." Obviously, you're right, but if there's one thing we've learned the last nine years of bless - emotions are not always driven by facts. The facts are:

• I love these little people that are terrorizing me and seem pretty insistent on swinging anything that might be construed as a weapon at each others' heads. 
• I love you and value the work that you do and that you make every effort to be a part of the good and the wretched around here.
• You did not teach the kids to whine. (I may have, but who's pointing fingers?)
• PBS changed its lineup, and while this is also not your fault, it is so life-altering that it makes me mad at pretty much everyone, so don't take it personally.
• Even though I might be a bad influence on them, I wouldn't want to give up this privileged responsibility of caring for these three image-bearers to anyone else. (Other than Miss Morgan at the Y, Marisah on Wednesday nights, Mrs. Thomas at school, the lovely Sunday School and Children's church volunteers, childcare workers during Bible Study, and Miss Krista on Wednesday mornings... ohmygosh, this is why they're crazy - I'm an absent parent!)
• This too shall pass, and I'll be sad when it does. (By "this," I don't mean the whining, but I do mean the ages at which whining is so screechingly prevalent.)

See, I've mostly talked myself off the ledge. I've even opened the door to the closet I'm hiding in (mostly because it is freaking hot in here). But, all facts aside, if I remember correctly, your day involved a nice staff meeting during which was planned some sort of wedding celebration for our friends. If it involved cake, and you don't bring me some.... well, let's just say you've been warned.

All my heart,

Susie

Where are you from? I'm from Ohio.

So, Ben and I *may* have gotten into an argument over the weekend because when someone asked him where he was from, he didn't say Ohio.

Clearly, I *may* have been being a little oversensitive. (Sidenote: I'm pretty sure "been being" is not proper English... Abby? Mrs. Heath? When did I lose my ability to write a proper sentence? Oh yes, sometime around the day I first started this blog.)

But, let me make my case anyway.

First of all, though neither of us grew up here, we've lived here for 8 years. EIGHT YEARS. We've had babies here, built a house here, screwed up our taxes every single year right here in America's heartland.

Second of all, though this might not be fair, I'm not really "from" anywhere else anymore. That's a-whole-nother story, but the bottom line is that the only place I have left to be "from" is here. And if I can't be from anywhere else, Ben doesn't get to be either.
What? I admitted it wasn't fair, but marriage isn't fair.

Thirdly, how many years do you need to be married to be "from" the same place?

Ohio is the best place anyone could ever be "from." It has given us the best years of our lives, and the least we could give back is some pride in claiming it as OURS.

If you're not from Ohio - heck, even if you are - you might have been programmed to believe that Ohio is not a cool place to be "from." Oh, how wrong you are. Now, to be fair, I can't speak for the whole state. I hear Cleveland is kind of a depressing place what with LeBron peacing out and the whole Lake Effect weather thing they've got going on. But here in the Miami Valley, we've got a lot to cheer you up.

Here are some highlights:

• We don't have traffic. If you hit traffic, start praying, because it means that someone got into an serious accident up ahead, and that's why things are slowing down.
• We can park in actual parking lots. There's only one place I go that has parking meters, and those are for charity, and you don't actually get a ticket if you don't put money in.
• Being in the middle of the country, many regional fast food favorites have eventually migrated here, including my favorites - Chik-fil-a, Sonic, and Five Guys, as well as Tim Horton's which made it here from Canada. (Full Disclosure: Dunkin Donuts hasn't shown up on the scene yet, which is profoundly disappointing.)
• Sure our economy is in the toilet, but housing doesn't get much cheaper. 
• Renewing your license at the DMV takes about 6.3 minutes.
• Graeter's 
• Cheap and easy ways to learn anything you'd ever want to know.
• Readoption is a piece of cake. A few forms, one check, no court appearances, and BAM - your kid born in Rwanda officially gets a new name and a birth certificate. Sure it's a little anticlimactic. I almost asked the lady behind the window to find a gavel she could bang or something to make it all more momentous, but instead decided to count my blessings and sing the praises of Greene County.
• It's a swing state, which makes election years so much more exciting, and I'd like to think also makes my vote count more.

There's more, but the basic gist is that Southwestern Ohio is a cheap and easy place to live, with lots of good fast food. 

Plus, I'm from here, which if you're married to me, is a good reason to be "from" here too.

By the way, this post is in no way a joke. I really love it here. Laugh all you want, just don't make me move.

Rain Gutters

Isn't the Internet wonderful? Yesterday afternoon, I happened to come across this, which I decided would be the perfect addition to my kids' room. So, I packed them up, headed to Lowes, came up with 20 feet of rain gutter and introduced my husband to his project for the evening.

He loves it when I come home with crazy ideas. He also loves it when I post pictures of him on the internet without his shirt. But, hey, them's the breaks. 

So, anyway, I LOVE our new rain gutter bookshelves. Less than $50 for supplies, less than 2 hours of work, and a whole wall of art that (as I assured Ben) will instill in the kids a love of reading for a lifetime.

An anniversary, a "new" computer, and a graduation

I've been a married woman for nine years. Well, actually, I've probably been a married woman for about 7 years. I'm not sure the word "woman" completely applies to a 22-year-old girl, which is what I was when I got married. I didn't clean (I mean, like anything. Not like now, where I just don't clean everything - does that make sense?). Cooking was hamburger helper. Our furniture was part-cardboard from Target.

I think actual adulthood came gradually down the road, later, when I began to experience the pain and uncertainty of trying to get pregnant, the responsibility of home ownership, the sentimental journey of watching baby brothers get married, the heartache of being hurt by people who were supposed to love you, and the hard work of trying to forgive those people when you don't have it in you at all.

I guess if I'm going to look at it that way, I still have some growing up to do.

I married my man when we were but babies, and I'm loving growing up with him.

**********

My "other" baby is my macbook. Oh, how I love it. It's not a baby anymore though - it's a senior citizen in computer years. And, you know how IT guys are most of the time not that helpful? You know how they just tell you to reboot? You know how they like to sit in the dark and invent new ways to confuse you?

Not our IT guys. We have two where we work. They're great, and helpful. One of them is less an IT guy, and more of my senior citizen macbook's fountain of youth.

He gave it a new hard drive, and an upgraded operating system, and just like that, my macbook is a baby again, running like new. Maybe someday we'll have a nine year anniversary together?

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My first baby graduated from pre-school yesterday. Everyone was all "oooh!" and "ahhhh!", and I was all, "It's kind of lame. I mean he's going to pre-K next year, and I'm sure they'll do a graduation, and then there's Kindergarten graduation. And then he'll have had three graduations and he'll still be 6."

But, it wasn't lame. It was adorable. His amazing teachers spent countless hours putting together scrapbooks for each kid, and a slideshow, and it's a real tear-jerker to reflect on how much your baby boy has grown up in 9 months.

Today, though, was the end-of-year picnic. I'm going to be honest - I usually hate picnics. It's either rainy or 100 degrees. Today's picnic was of the HOT variety. Just me and three kids, and buckets of sweat, (surprisingly delicious) hot dogs, and a bouncy house.

Of course, the only kid I have who WANTS to get in a bouncy house is my little girl. The teacher told me I would have to get in with her. I tried to explain that I was more likely to get hurt in that thing than Taly. I didn't try to explain that those things make me pee my pants. I just found someone to hold my baby while I scrambled into an inflatable oven with a bunch of kids and bounced my heart out.

After that, it was hard to contain my misery. I tried to psych Simon up for going home, but he was having none of it, so we (I) suffered. I kept looking at all the other parents, trying to identify someone who would stand in the shade with me and complain, but everyone else looked so happy. I was confused and lonely - maybe I just smelled and people were trying to stay away.  Or, there's a small chance I have an attitude problem, but I doubt it.

*********
All in all, it's been a week of celebration. Next week, we pick it back up again with birthday celebrations for two of my kids, and I plan to eat a lot of cake. (Thanks for all the help with girl-party suggestions!)

Race, Culture, and In-laws: What I've learned in the first 10 years

Ten years ago I met my (then future) in-laws for the first time. Have I told those stories yet? Wow, lots of tears as I came face to face with my future forever and how different everything would be for me. Not bad, just really, really different.

Forgive me if I'm repeating myself, but here's the gist of it. I grew up in a very white community in the midwest. Close enough to Chicago where there should have been more diversity in my life, but there wasn't. I was raised on church, Christian School and the Cosby Show. Every Thursday night on tv, I learned an important lesson in regards to race and culture: We're all the same, we just come in different colors.

And then I met Ben's parents, and my world came crashing down as I realized that everything the Huxtables taught me had been wrong - we were NOT the same. We weren't even close to the same. In fact, other than the fact that we were all fond of Ben, I don't think think there was anything between us that resembled sameness.

We spoke different languages, ate different food, wore different clothes, had very different ideas about what it means to be polite, what it means to be modest, where one should sit, whether or not it's acceptable to kick your husband in public, etc.

So, ten years ago, I met Ben's parents and decided that the Cosby show didn't do me a whole lot of good. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say that Easter weekend 2000 involved my future mother-in-law trying to make me kill a duck, say "fart" in Malayalam to my future father-in-law, and bringing up each of Ben's former girlfriends who were "so nice" and "so pretty."

It's been a journey. A journey on which I've mostly been arrogant, selfish and insecure when confronted with people very unlike me. But, I've been seeing it little by little - the ugliness in my heart that bubbles up when everything I know to be "right" doesn't apply.

Do you like all the "quotation marks" in this post? It's important, because I'm learning that we all use similar words, but often don't all mean the same thing.

Here's the thing about Ben's parents: Despite the whole duck-killing and other mean-spirited tricks that weekend, they are great people. Ben's mom was just trying to make sure I knew who was in charge, I think. I have a son now, who isn't allowed to marry someone I don't like, so I know things now I didn't know then.

Ben was recently giving a talk to a large group of people, and he used some stories from his upbringing as illustration. He did great - painting the picture of his parents as new immigrants sacrificing everything to help others in their community gain a foothold in the New World. He described how even though the four of them lived in a one-bedroom apartment, they always made room for relatives who needed a place to live.

It was beautiful. People ooohed and ahhhhed at all the right places. Concepts like that are completely foreign to us Americans. We hail from the Land of Boundaries. We say things like, "We'll just get a hotel room so we don't overcrowd you," and no one gets offended.

Anyway.

Afterwards, I was chatting with a friend about the story. She knew a little of my adjustment to my new culture, my new family. I remarked that Ben's story was a perfect example. Yes, they are AMAZING people. But, you try marrying into a family where it's perfectly acceptable, expected and assumed that you would share a one-bedroom apartment with all your relatives.

I don't even like sharing my bedroom with my baby boy.

So, it's been a (tricky, stretching, gratifying) journey. It's shaped me and given me perspective. It's stripped the polish and veneer off my efforts to convince the world and myself that I'm not prejudiced towards other cultures.* I am. We are. All of us to a certain degree, probably, but I'll go ahead and put myself in front of the bus first.

I prefer to be around people who make me comfortable. I prefer to love people who communicate love the same way I do. I prefer to go to a church where I am fully familiar with all social "rules", eat food that reminds me of home, and when people speak my language easily and clearly, I assume they are smarter than I would if they didn't.

Ugly.

And just so I don't keep sugar-coating things, it's not just that I feel uncomfortable. It's that I get fiercely defensive of my way, which is of course the right way. It's that somewhere in my heart I believe that I'm right and so people like me are also right, or at least more right than people not like me.

Ugly.

I am learning. It's been ten years and I'm still learning. It's hard for Ben to believe that it can take this long. It's exasperating for me that it's taking this long. I'm a slow learner, I guess.

But like all journeys, it is one rich with reward. Hopefully my slow learning will teach my kids important lessons about race and culture, and about sin and grace. Hopefully walking the long distance that lies between my right and their right (or your right) will mark the difference between real relationship and convenient relationship.

I have a lot to learn from my husband's family, so my future daughters-in-law better watch out - I've got some new tricks up my sleeve!

*After a lot of thought, I edited this statement. Originally, I used the term "racist," and I don't think that's an accurate description of the issue at hand. Skin color doesn't scare me. Differences in cultures, values, upbringings, and communication freak me out and can bring out some ugly sides of me. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

The best decision I've ever made

I married him because I knew for absolute certain that he was the best guy in the whole world and if I didn't say yes I was just plain stupid. I married him because when he took me home for the first time to meet his family in the Most Overwhelming Weekend of my life, I met Sunimom who helped raise him and I could see in her enthusiasm that I was right - he was a good man.

He's young for where he is in his life, but that's nothing new. His mom somehow got him into kindergarten when he was like 4. It seemed like a good idea at the time, until he wanted to play football, and he was a full year younger and smaller than everyone trying to crush him.

Fortunately, he seems to lack the part of the nervous system that registers pain. He reported to college football weighing 134 pounds, and if I need to state the painfully obvious, that means that at 8 inches taller than me, he weighed less than I do now. (Someone should check with the NCAA, but he's got to be like the only Indian to play college football...)

He doesn't like dessert, reading fiction, or watching the Bachelor. He thinks the more the merrier when I think the more the awkwarder. He's boycotting baseball (something about Barry Bonds, and not what you'd think) and I'm boycotting football.

So, really, we have very little in common.

But, it turns out that at the immature age of 21, when I was wrong about so much, I was right about the really important stuff: He was - and is - a great man.

I would have been stupid not to say yes.

Today is his birthday, and I don't know about him, but for me, it's a happy one.

When God Builds a Family: a letter to all my kids

When God builds a family, He doesn’t always like things to be all matchy-matchy. It’s not like when you’re redecorating a bedroom and you go buy the bed in the bag because that’s the easiest and you know for sure that your comforter will match your shams which will match your valance.

When God builds a family, he doesn’t care much that the shams match the valance.

God doesn’t build a family the way some people shop at JCPenney’s for ensembles. God likes to build families like the seasoned, well-traveled buyer for an exotic boutique, who with an unlimited budget, scours the Earth for the perfect pieces that come together to tell the perfect story at just the right time.

Did you know that when God set out to build our family, He criss-crossed oceans to find us all? It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. You see, for God to build our family, He had to get Mommy and Daddy together in the same place so that we could fall in love.

Well, in many cases, it’s not that big of a deal for God to arrange a meeting between Mommies and Daddies. But, our story was a little trickier – it took a lot of advanced planning to make it work out just right.

You see, before Daddy was born, when He was just God’s Really Good Idea, your Amma & Appa lived far, far away in India – where jackfruit grows rampant and elephants walk the streets. And, before Daddy could be born, God had to bring Amma & Appa together so that they could get married.

That was a tricky case too. Things started of smoothly because Amma & Appa lived in the same town. But, when Appa got to be a little bigger, he had to go fight in the army. He traveled all around India and China and Bangladesh fighting for his country. It was very dangerous, and a long time went by when no one knew where Appa was. Everyone assumed that he had died.

This is what we call a “turning point” - because at this point in the story, Amma’s family was looking for a match for her. They looked at many boys, but they never looked at Appa because they thought that he was dead.

Now, God knew that if He was going to build our family, He was going to have to get Amma & Appa together. So, he saved Appa during that dangerous war, and one day, Appa walked back into that hot Indian village. A match was made, and your Amma & Appa got married.

Well, I’m sure that God was pleased that He’d accomplished that tricky match that almost never was. But, He still had a big job ahead of Him.  God knew that if Mommy & Daddy were going to meet, it sure wasn’t going to happen if Daddy lived all the way over in India with the jackfruit and the elephants.
God knew that Daddy had to be born in America.

There are people who will tell you stories that will make you believe that it’s easy for immigrants to come to this country. But, the truth is that your Amma had to work really had to come here, and even after all of her hard work, she still needed some miracles to make it all happen.

But, God was building our family, so He made those miracles happen. And, finally, one day your Amma flew to America with eight dollars and the hope that a letter she had written months before would result in someone picking her up at the airport.

I know it seems like the hard part was over. But Grandma & Pop-Pop weren’t easy to get together either. And, if Grandma & Pop-Pop didn’t get together, there would be no Mommy. And, if there had been no Mommy, then you wouldn’t be here either.

Grandma & Pop-Pop look like they match, which makes it seem like they were easy to put together, but back when Mommy was just God’s Really Good Idea, they didn’t match at all. You’ll have to see pictures to believe me, but basically, the point is that God had to get Pop-Pop into the churchy world if Pop-Pop was going to meet Grandma, and Pop-Pop was nowhere near the churchy world.

Pop-Pop had decided just like Appa to join the army. Like Appa, he didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, and so the army seemed like the next best thing. This was when God saw His opportunity to get Pop-Pop over into the churchy world where Grandma was. God sent a man named Bob to tell Pop-Pop that Jesus loved him. Pop-Pop eventually believed him, but Bob thought that if Pop-Pop didn’t get into the churchy world, he’d probably get himself into some trouble in the army.

So, Bob got Pop-Pop a chance to play basketball and go to college at the very place that every single person in Grandma’s family went to college.

When Grandma met Pop-Pop, he was scraggly and skinny, and a little uncomfortable having just been transplanted into the heart of churchy-ness. The odds were stacked against them, for sure, but Pop-Pop moved fast and married Grandma before she could even finish college.

So, now, the stage had been set and most of God’s preparation work had taken place. Mommy & Daddy were still just Really Good Ideas, but ideas that would at least be born in the same country.

I don’t know how old you’ll be when you realize that Mommy & Daddy don’t look the same. We’re alike in a lot of ways, but we’re different colors. For the most part, no one really notices, but there will always be people who think that’s a big deal. You know what? I actually think it’s a big deal too.

I think it’s a big, cool, amazing deal.

The fact that we don’t look alike is my little reminder that God had to work extra hard to match us together. It reminds me that we are not a bed-in-a-bag family, but that we were hand-selected to coordinate and complement and make each other shine.

You too, kids. You are all amazing, interesting products of an extravagant treasure hunt that has spanned the globe. We are not a matchy-matchy family, but we are a family a built by God.

Here's Hoping

I am REALLY hoping to get some adoption news this week. I am hoping that when I sit at the Thanksgiving table and someone asks me what I'm thankful for I can say, "For Our Approval!"

Maybe I will be able to, maybe not. But since I believe in the whole "Give thanks in ALL things" thing, here's what I am thankful for in the midst of the oh-so-difficult time of waiting.

I'm thankful that my waiting, my obsessive email checking, my overuse of the phrase "hopefully soon," is because there are people whose job it is to protect the children of Rwanda. This job is important, and they do it well, and it involves so much more than writing my approval letter. So, I wait while they work, and I'm thankful for their work.

I'm thankful that every day I long for good news, for a bit of information, for a picture of my child, is a day that love grows in my heart for a child I've never met before. These days are important, because love takes time, and the foundation for it is being laid right now.

I'm thankful for a real-time conversation with my friend Adrianne, who is full of wisdom. I'm thankful for her pespective, for the way her heart breaks at suffering, and that she talks just like me, but with a cute semi-southern thing. (She's hoping to get news about her baby soon too.)

Ooooh, AND..
This has nothing to do with adoption, but today is the 10-year anniversary of my first date with Ben. I'm thankful he remembered even though I didn't, and that he's still glad he asked me out - even though my brother told him not to.

Simon Says....so Mommy shouldn't, and other random things

Nearing the end of a rough day, I needed my daughter (who had just pooped in a bathtub full of toys) to come into the living room.

I stood outside the bathroom door, watching her try to get the toys I was soaking in disinfectant. Repeatedly, with increasing volume, I heard myself shouting things like,
"Talya come here!"
"Taly you need to come to Mommy!"
"Sweetheart please come"
and probably something along the lines of
"Dangit Mommy is tired, would you just get over here?!?!"

After watching me suffer, Simon summoned all his four-year-old wisdom and suggested, "Mommy, you just go. She'll follow you."

I stormed into the living room, followed by my suddenly obedient daughter and know-it-all son. He looked at me and said, "Mom, are you having a rough time?"

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Quick commercial:

I made these hobby horses for my kids today. 

They LOVE them. I got the directions here, linked to by Lier at Ikat Bag, who has inspired me to create things for my kids. She does it much better than I - but I have fun looking.

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Back to today's topic of things Simon says and things I shouldn't.

I am now watching my language. It's taken four years, but my son has finally picked up on my potty mouth. Really, I don't say anything that bad, but when Sy was born, I promised Ben that when our innocent baby started saying "sucks" "crap" and "pissed off," I would try to stop.

Well, he did, and I'm trying. Simon is holding me accountable - very vigilantly I might add. So "stinks," "shoot," and the all-purpose "ugggghhh" are making their way back into my vocabulary from wherever I left them in 8th grade.

While we're on the topic, Ben also thinks that "Dangit" is inappropriate. I wholeheartedly disagree. What do you think?

(I find that it's generally healthy to poll the internet world when I disagree with my husband, don't you?)

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Yesterday, Simon came into the kitchen and said, "Mommy, can I have some beer?" Being that we don't keep alcohol in the house, neither of us like beer, and I haven't had one since trying to impress an older-than-me ex-boyfriend years ago, I was a bit surprised.... and ready to call his preschool and find out who brought what to show & tell.

"Where did you learn about beer?" I asked Simon as casually as I could.

"From you."

Okay. So I won't be calling the preschool.

"Remember when we were watching tv and we saw...." He proceeded to recount a public service announcement we saw months ago about drunk driving. At the time, he asked like a thousand questions, which I tried to answer as simply as possible. But you try to explain drunk driving to a four-year-old and not have it come back to bite you in the butt.

I have a feeling Sy's preschool will be calling me. That would suck.

See ya, or as Sy has lately taken to saying, 

Peace out Suckas.

Really Important and Relevant Updates

I hate to leave you hanging. I know you are just dying to know how things are going in regards to some of my previous posts. Here you go.

Ben is hunting today. For turkeys. I hope he doesn't get one because what the heck am I supposed to do with a turkey? Do homeless shelters take turkeys? Apparently my hunting post earned him quite a few offers to come try out some guns and today his dream is coming true. I hope he comes home in one piece, and without a dead turkey. Can you imagine what the sight of a dead turkey would do to my sweet son?

I am three days in to p90x... the new workout/hour of torture I've started with Ben. Now, not only do my legs hurt like heck, I can hardly raise my arms above my head. It's making lugging around a 20 pound child extra frustrating.

Ever wonder how "potty training" is going? Well, for the record, I am labeling Simon as officially potty trained. Let's face it - he has to be to get into pre-school. And he never, never has accidents. In fact, his "toilet control" is so advanced that he can still hold his poop for days as long as it means he doesn't have to sit on the potty. We have put the whole thing on official hiatus, and I'm praying he gets over his potty-poop-phobia before middle school.

And, because Ben's putting his life in danger this morning just so he can try to kill a large bird, and I love him so much, here's another snippet from our story - the first date.

I miss Leslie

Remember Leslie? She and her team of bubbly mommies and grandmas giggling with me through a walking workout? I miss her.

All Ben wanted for Valentine's Day was p90X - yes, the one you see on the infomercials. Being the loving and supportive wife I am, I decided that since he never uses our weight set or our elliptical machine, he didn't need me to spend over $100 on an exercise DVD set with a nutritional guide included.

I finally caved. Because he's so handsome. And he doesn't judge me when I eat ice cream after walking with Leslie. But, I am cheap, so I bought him his DVD set off of ebay. It's totally bootleg, which goes against my strict ethical convictions on piracy, but what can I say - I'm a sucker and now the seller is no longer on ebay for me to take issue with.

Don't worry, though. The workout I just did (half of) is punishment enough for my copyright infringement.

I can't walk.

My legs are jello.

The sweat won't stop pouring out of my head.

This workout was hard. Hard. Crazy hard.

If I keep this up, I will be able to kick my brothers' butts in any Lake George competition this summer. But, that's a Big Fat If.

I'm pretty proud of myself, but I'm also pretty mad. Because that's the kind of workout that makes you feel like you should have lost 10 pounds by the time you're done. But I didn't!

Time for some ice cream - who's with me (Erica)?

Channel Surfing in Motor City

I am sitting with my feet up in a nice hotel room on a HUGE bed with CLEAN sheets. ALONE. The tv is on, and that's Oprah you hear, not Handy Manny.

Life is Good.

Okay, so technically I'm not in Motor City, I'm actually in Canada. Yes, I needed my passport for this exotic little vacation my husband sent me on. He's a good one, my man. He gave me his ticket to tonight's national championship game.

He gave it to me because he knew that, though I may not be the world's biggest sports fan (who's playing? Who cares?), I am a big fan of

1. time alone
2. time with my dad
3. listening to Oprah talking about motherhood (umm, what made Oprah an expert on motherhood, exactly?) when I would normally be wiping butts and cooking dinner.

So, a few more minutes of taking up every inch of real estate on this bed, while I flip channels and wonder why I didn't bring a book, and then it's off to the big game.

Woo-hoo!! Go State! Go Heels! Go Canada!

Oh, and a big thanks to my mom for helping Ben with the butt-wiping and dinner-making while I'm gone.

Now, I wonder what John & Kate are up too...

I wasn't going to say anything, but...

While driving to my brother's house near Chicago last weekend, we were exiting off the highway, and Ben rolled through a stop sign. I normally wouldn't have said anything, but I HATE the thought of getting in trouble, and there was a huge sign that said "Camera Enforced" red light or something like that. So, all of my legalism and tightwad-ishness (tickets aren't cheap) bubbled over into a shrieking nag at Ben to "STOP! We're going to get a ticket! Look at the freaking sign! Stop!"

Ben rolled his eyes and pointed out another sign that said you could turn right on red.

I didn't see the sign, but because I am quick to own my spastic faults, I profusely apologized for missing what he had seen and for being a nag, because believe it or not, I haven't badgered him about his driving since 2001, when I successfully harassed him into letting go of his road rage before he killed me.

As it turns out....

Ben brought the mail in today, and what did he have in his hand but a $100 citation from the state of Illinois for the exact incident I have so eloquently described.

Which of my Chicago-area readers wants to drive out to the exit onto Algonquin Road and verify who's right here about the signs? Bring your camera because Ben wants to contest the ticket.

The things that rule our world

There used to be a day where I was in charge of my life. Then I had kids. And during the day they are in charge. At 7:30 pm, the kids are thrown into their rooms tucked sweetly into bed, and my freedom is reclaimed.

But, it's not, really. To Ben's constant annoyance, once the kids are in bed, I become a slave (and subsequently require him to be a slave) to the baby monitors. Say what you want about "just turning it off," that doesn't work for me. I need them on. I am obsessed. I am wondering at what age it becomes inappropriate to spy on your kids through the monitor.

Every night, as Ben's eyes start to close, I wake him up and make sure he checks the volume and channel on his monitor and I check mine. We have to be careful to keep our cell phones charging far away in other room, or some alien frequency intervenes and we are kept up all night with REALLY LOUD BRRRRRNNNNNGGGGGs and EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRs. We hear the kids cough and whimper and toss and turn, and I lay there praying them back to sleep.

I've gotten used to having the monitors as the nightly intruder in my otherwise messy but peaceful bedroom.

But, lately, something else has showed up to govern my nights and wake me from sleep: the crib rail.

You would think that since I put Taly to bed in her crib at least three times a day, I would be used to the putting the crib rail up routine. But in exhausted early morning moments, I forget. I forget to raise it, and it doesn't occur to me until I snuggle back under the covers and start praying her back to sleep.

And then, with a start and groan, I remember and I envision her toppling over the edge and me ending up on Oprah explaining myself. This morning it happened. And Ben was gracious enough to offer to check. I'm not sure if he meant it, but he offered, and I'm not one to play the martyr (actually I am) so I let him do it.

So, he began the covert op. The mission: silently raise the rail without startling Taly, who was just beginning to realize it was still night time. Now that's a mission: impossible if I ever heard one.

I, snuggled deep under the covers, listened to the monitor and heard the giggle of a baby who saw Daddy come in the room, the click of the rail being raised, and then the angry wales of a baby who realized Daddy wasn't planning on sticking around.

Not a great way to start the morning. And my punishment for forgetting to raise it in the first place was having to listen to the aftermath on the monitor.

Special Election Day Guest Post

It's Election Day! Big Day here in the Thomas House. My real interest in politics came during my addictive viewing of the West Wing. What?! You haven't watched the whole series? Go watch it - it's SO Good. Anyway, since watching 7 seasons on DVD in a relatively short amount of time, I've been addicted to the Race, the Hype, the Spin.

And, tonight, it's over.
But, today, we celebrate where we've come and today's post does just that. It's by my handsome husband. And, did you know there is so much more to him than his good looks? Read on, and enjoy. (Oh, and since it's never too early to start a campaign these days, and since Ben has a secret ambition to be the president despite my very controversial beliefs that one cannot both follow Christ the way He asks us to and lead the United States of America, get ready to vote Thomas 2020! How's that for a loaded run-on sentence?)


I am the son of two immigrants from India. My parents emigrated to this country in the early seventies in hope of securing a better future for themselves, but mainly for their children. I was born in Brooklyn and then moved to Long Island. I grew up in a very middle class neighborhood, school and community. Often times, my brother and I, and our Indian friends were the only ones around that looked different.
We have always been proud to be Americans. This country has given us opportunities that our parents never even dreamed about. Opportunities for education, employment, and the ability to live in a safe and secure country. These were things our parents had to fight hard for and we enjoy just by being Americans. We are proud to be Americans. We are humbled that we have been given this chance, when we see our cousins in India who still struggle and aren’t afforded the opportunities we have been given.
We were aware, even at a very young age, that there were certain things that were possible in this country and certain things that were not. It was possible for our parents, who mainly come from small villages in southern India to make a great living for themselves. It was possible for us to ensure a great and secure future in this wonderful country. It was possible for us to be treated as equals in many respects to our classmates. It was possible for us to work hard and achieve anything we wanted, well almost anything.
But there was always that word: almost. Always that qualifier: in many respects. Because there was always the gap between my possibilities and the possibilities that existed for others.
That’s why today marks an even greater level of pride in my country.
Today, the doors of America swing wide open again. Regardless of your political leanings or church affiliations, the glass ceilings that were left in this country are being shattered. You have an African-American male running for the highest office in the land. You have a former POW who has served his country honorably and in the most sacrificial way. You have a Caucasian woman, who is a hockey mom, small-town mayor and governor running as a vice presidential candidate.
Today, we are reminded yet again that we are all created in God’s image, with His design determining our possibilities. This is a truth we have heard from the time we first went to Sunday School. It was a truth we were reminded of as we learned about the Constitution. And yet, there were other truths that reminded us that maybe we weren’t there yet in this country. Today, that changes. Today, regardless of whom you are voting for and how you feel about each candidate, today we remember we are created in God’s image. Male, female, black, white, Indian. We are God’s people, created in His image. Regardless of gender, race, religion, ethnicity, we take a huge step forward to realizing God created us all to be equally honored children of the King.
So, as you go to the voting booth today and you wait up all night to see who our next President is, remind yourself of a few truths. You were created in God’s image. You can tell your kids that all things are possible. There is nothing that cannot be accomplished. If your son or daughter wants to be a doctor, lawyer, missionary, engineer or President, it is possible. I have been an American for 30 years. I have been fighting tears since last night and all morning as I realize this truth is finally here.

And here's a little West Wing love:

Goodbye, Halloween

The Halloween season is officially over. We celebrated in style last night with a grown-up party for our AIA friends. In the spirit of the presidential election and our own independent political leanings, we dressed up as Sarah Palin and Barack Obama. I wasn't committed to character enough to cut myself bangs, but I did add to my costume Baby Trig and a hunting rifle. Ben ticked off the mostly-McCain-loving-crowd by carrying around an Obama script and using his talking points the whole evening.

Prizes were given to Debbie Fesler for her impressive rock star costume. I'm not sure how she got a hold of my leopard pants. In fact, minus the afro, she looks pretty much how I did in college.

Jared and Erin Wellman for dressing up like each other

And Megan Soderberg for her ridiculous costume - "Partly Cloudy, Chance of Rain" - talk about getting into the spirit of Halloween!

All in all, fun times.

Two Presents for Me!

Tonight I got two presents.

My husband came home from Hyderabad early. A huge surprise, and much enjoyed as Simon needs someone to run around with him and "shoot baskets." And I need someone to make me breakfast in the morning.

He brought with him another gift that he spent his whole trip working on. He took my senior paper, a 30-page academic paper on God's Covenant with Noah that I wrote in April, 2000, and retyped it. He knew I only had a hard copy, and he wanted me to have one on disk. A true labor of love, and a well-thought out one at that, since he brought it with him from America a year ago with this plan in place.

I love him for knowing I need him. And I love him for believing I'm brilliant.

Gettin' Around

After a year of taking rickshaws everywhere around town, we have been blessed with a new mode of transportation - a Honda Activa Scooter. Ok, so this has topped my list of "things I'd never do in India," namely letting my son ride on a scooter in this crazy traffic, but....

Motorcycles and scooters are the minivans of India. Whole families ride on these things, with kids and grocery bags dangling off the sides. Ladies in sarees are adept at perching sidesaddle on the back of their husbands' bikes, but believe me, I am still clinging tightly with both arms and legs! Simon loves it, of course. We are just making the imminent return to a car seat seem worse and worse.

So, here we are on our family vehicle. Thank you so much to our neighbor and Crusade co-worker, Samuel James, for letting us use this while we are here. It has added so much convenience and independence to our lives, and has saved us a lot of money now that we live way out here in Ramamurthynagar.

Ben's doing a great job driving - I know it's stressful for him, but he's doing great. And I think I'm doing a great job not freaking out!

By the way, Happy Anniversary to us! It has been 1 year since we left America to come to India - one whole year since we've seen America or our families!

On top of the World - without me!

Ben just got back from Nepal and brought back some amazing pictures of, what I consider to be the most beautiful country in the world (that I've been to). He and Tim went for "ministry" and got to take a mountain flight into the Himalayas (pronounced Him-all-yas) 'round these parts. I'm jealous, of course, but I thought I'd share a picture anyway.

In case you were wondering, they tell me that the ministry side of the trip went well, too!