A Confession to Introverts

 Dear introverts in my life,
       I know I married one of you, but I don't understand you yet. I'm realizing all the rules to the game I've been charting and tracking all these years don't apply here with you. At times this leaves me feeling confused and uncomfortable in my skin, unsure of my next move, wondering if one more email or phone call or outing is smothering you with a little too-much-love and too-often-enthusiasm. It's a little risky over here wondering if you have the space to make me your friend. Because of course, I want you to be mine. When you're tired, you need to keep the world at bay. When I'm spent, I need to go to the bay along with you...and as many people as I can possibly talk into coming.
       I know you're a little frustrated with me, the extrovert, because even though there is no filter to keep me from saying what I really think, just when can you tell when I'm saying what I mean? When I've finally landed on my point? If I've stopped talking, then whatever was said last, this is my truth and my platform (for now anyway, unless I was distracted by something shiny mid-sentence). Do you have more to say after this, or are you waiting for me to ask intelligent, articulate questions to draw out the rest, to show you that I'm still interested? I don't have any intelligent, articulate questions. Those are for people who sleep. When I interrupt you, this doesn't mean that I don't care about hearing what you have to say. It means that the synapses in my brain are firing off connections that I deeply want to share with you for the sake of relational bonding and that I need to share with you before I orbit off into space, so my brain can be emptied and I can refocus on what you are telling me. 
       I know we inadvertently hurt each others' feelings sometimes, but that is friendship no matter which way you color it and I am oh-so-thankful for yours. Please hang in there with me as I talk over you and most likely embarrass you in public in the very near future. And just so you know, I think you're pretty swell and don't get all the praise you deserve in our culture that recognizes and rewards the extroverts. I'll try to put this big mouth to good use and brag on you more often.

All my love,
Jenny

Potty Training...For Real This Time

Dear Subway,
We apologize for that piddle puddle we left in your highchair. But we had just used the last babywipe. You should maybe rethink that non self-serve napkin policy.

If shopping with small children wasn't like a big game of hot potato before, it sure is now that the diapers have come off! Yes, without much preamble or preparation, we bought some 2T panties and said that was that. I took Selah Grace to the aisle full of toddler underwear and let her choose her favorite pack. After much oohing and aaahing over cartoon characters, a two minute stretch of clutching Buzz Lightyear ones (no gender constraints here), she VERY EXCITEDLY picked out her pack of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse undies. Her new chant is, "No more diapers! Yes panties!"

We've had a few days of loading up the washer with every pair of pants she owns. But I think we've finally discovered a reward that motivates her. Chocolate. I asked her what she would like more than anything as a reward from going on the potty chair five times and her answer was a chocolate drink! Together we made a sticker chart to put over her potty chair. She gets one sticker for her sticker chart with each use of the potty. One sticker to put on her shirt and one chocolate chip to eat immediately. After five stickers on the chart she earns herself a cup of hot chocolate. Hopefully the new chocolatey incentives will motivate her to give up the diapers. She's known how to use the potty for a while now, but just isn't interested in making the switch. No more dawdling. It's time to pay the cloth diapers forward to baby brother who has grown out of his mini cloths.

The potty in public is still kind of tricky. Public restrooms with big toilets scare her. Good instincts. They scare most of the rest of us too. Maybe we'll put a potty chair in the back of the Pilot and let her go there in the middle of shopping trips, but that leads us into a whole new conundrum...what to do if she DOES go? Bushes? Doggie bag it? The options seems slightly less than sanitary or legal for that matter.

We're trying to keep it fun and allow Selah to be a part of the process as much as possible, in what we hope is giving her buy-in to the whole situation. She chose the panties, the reward stickers, the reward chocolate.

Wish us luck! And you might want to start Lysol wiping your shopping cart if you don't already do so. We just may have been there before you with an, "oh well, next time we'll make it to the potty chair," kind of trip.

A Musical Nod

At 11pm last night as we rang in the New Year early so we could go to bed, Nate and I said goodbye to 2010 by singing a little pop-rock. We're a musical little family; Nate in that orderly left brain sort of way uses music as an expression of logic and mathematics and scale and me in that beautifully chaotic right brain sort of way that uses music as an expression of the intangible intuitive.

As stated in the previous post, we did the best we could with 2010, but in the words of Cee-Lo, "we're like forget you".



2011, we're ready for a Whole New World.

Wins and Losses: A Year in Review

2010. It came. It happened. It went. I'm not sure what I was doing because it seems to have begun and ended in the time it takes to inhale. Here and gone in a breath. A small one.

I drew a t-chart to sort the year's main events into either a "win" or a "loss" category, but soon abandoned that process. Each "win" was won with a fair share of sacrifice and each "loss" has a continued, untold story. Our year can't be hashed out, dichotomized neatly into my pro/con lists. It's a little more messy than a t-chart will allow.

This year; I jumped into a too-deep-project at church that I fully believed in, we were continually confronted with scary news about our unborn son's heart, we had a baby (a living, well, wonderful baby), said goodbye to Pa (Nate's grandpa), bought a car, couldn't find summer employment, made new friends, found mold growing in the house, replaced studs, drywall, and carpet to eradicate mold, began a bathroom remodel, put the remodel on hold, hosted a marrieds community group, went to Disneyland twice, watched Nate's parents separate, Nate finished his Masters program at USD, Selah Grace learned to talk really well,we celebrated five years of marriage, Nate got chemical burns on his fingers, I got mono, and no one slept more than a few hours at a time.

In a one word summary, I would call our 2010 tiring. Nate would call it turbulent because it was full of so many ups and downs.

To be completely honesty, I've spent the last month or so just waiting for this year to be over. I keep telling myself that next year I will be more rested. That next year I will be able to go to the grocery without buying a superfluous tin of Pillsbury orange rolls, but forgetting staples like bread and salsa. Next year I will remember to floss daily and have fashionable hair. Next year I will be a kind and respectful wife. Next year I will finally keep all the balls in the air...Even though I know this is a tragic lie, for the past few weeks I've been putting off milk runs and clenching my teeth in the hopes that the calendar will liberate me from this funk I've been in since mono kicked my heels and my pride out from under me.

We don't have any resolutions this year. Just a general desire to be restored in every sense of the word. To regain health and not feel so hopelessly over-tired. To allow gratitude to overshadow all the other stuff.

So goodbye 2010. Thank you for the beautiful blessing of our son. But you were a hard year to us, 2010, and we are ready to be done with you and are thankful that 2011 is no longer on the far horizon, but has stepped forward to meet us in the present.

Eye Contact

Last night was unexpected. I had an hour and a half of time. Just myself. No agenda. No kids. I decided to take myself on a mini-date while I waited for Nate's soccer practice to end. Choosing to avoid the griminess of downtown where we were, I found myself driving over the bridge to that magical little island, Coronado, and followed my feet into Starbucks. A cinnamon-sprinkled caramel macchiato and a good book sounded scrumptious in every way. But it didn't happen.

I make eye contact with people in public. I say hello to checkers and baristas and exchange the usual niceties, but always try to make eye contact while doing so. A small action to affirm that person's dignity. I placed my order then zoned in on the leather chair that was going to coddle me for the next hour of my "me time". But I made eye contact.

Innocent enough at first. A lady asking me if I lived here, talking about how she's from Chicago. When she commented that Coronado seemed like a reasonably, financially accessible place to live the red flag went up. Two minutes more it was confirmed that she was completely off her rocker, possibly on drugs, but most definitely off meds. At first glance she didn't look homeless, but upon further review there it was: a rolling suitcase of all her possessions and dirty fingernails. She had years of hurt and hardness beating her metaphorically and physically.

It was uncomfy sitting there. Part of me wanted to hear how she went from being a healthy, intelligent woman with a job and a home and a car and a family to this homeless, crazy, on-drugs, off-meds person she is today. And the other part of me just wanted to snuggle further into my chair and read my Nook. So I sat there and listened and found myself sitting there nodding with a dumbfounded expression on my face and nothing to say, looking frantically across the table for the guy to get me out of this, jingling my keys in my hand, the universally understood social gesture of needing to leave. But I had made eye contact...

I did eventually make it to the car 45 minutes and a few rambles later. As I drove in search of a new dry, warm place to read I wondered what exactly a homeless woman was doing in a Starbucks in Coronado of all places. The reason, I decided, wasn't all that different from why I was there. To escape the griminess of downtown, to sit in a cozy chair in a warm place, to find a little beauty in the evening, and to continue a story.

A Different Kind of Gift

Four times in two days. That's my Target tally. Seriously. You shouldn't find yourself at Target for a fourth time in just two days anytime of the year, but most definitely not the week of Christmas. So even though I am certain to wake up realizing I forgot to get that one last thing, I am done. Instead I am trying something new this year. Giving a gift to someone that is really for someone else.

Instead of scurrying around a multi-level mall with a toddler and 7 month old in tow, feeling frantic and surrounded by frantic others who could use an extra swig from the cup of Christmas cheer, I am lounging on the couch. Regaining my clarity, sanity, and yuletide spirit by listening to the ever-so-Christmassy Coldplay and "shopping" online. But this isn't your typical Cyber Monday shopping. This is for gifts that give life and hope for others. Because really, there's nothing more Christmassy than Life and Hope!

Watch out. You just may get a goat from us this year!

charitywater.org

donate.worldvision.org

"I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind." - Proverbs 8:30, 31

PER-SO-NAL-UH-TEEEEE

And here is my favorite succession of pics from our family photo shoot. I love how they so vividly capture our daughter's fun two-year-old personality. It was later in the day and by this point she was getting a little crazy, loopy!

Family Photo Shoot

Nate gave me the greatest Christmas present early - a family photo shoot. At a gorgeous place. With a super-talented photographer. Selah Grace definitely wins photo shoot MVP! (We did bribe her with a Chick-Fil-A ice cream cone, but mainly she's just an awesome two year old!)



Our photographer was friend, Katie Gardner. You can check her out here: katiegardnerphoto.com
And don't worry moms, you will get copies. We promise.

What did we learn from this?
1. Spending a wad of green on family pictures is 100% worth it! (To me at least. Nate probably has a different story.)
2. Take the shoot somewhere meaningful. The University of San Diego is where Nate and I met, became adults, fell in love, etc. and just happens to be gorgeous with a plethora of artsy areas that make for good photos. It's so fun to know the importance of the photo backdrop.
3. It's good to bribe small children to cooperate with special treats. But those are usually a mile and an hour away. Mini M&M rewards for obedience. That's even more helpful. Like puppy, like toddler.
4. Wear clothes you feel good in. I borrowed a few things for me and Selah to wear so we could feel cute and be weather-appropriate, because of course I was in the timeless feminine predicament of nothing (new) to wear. Nate wore his work clothes because he was thoughtfully dressing up, knowing how special these family portraits were for me. The negative of that is he looks alien to both of us. He is not a button-up-shirt type of guy. Next time we know that he should be in his Calle shorts and Sanuks.
5. Don't get your hair cut (a drastically different length) the day of the shoot. Girls, we all know this. I did anyway. That never ends well. So although I didn't love my hair I tried to remember the wise saying from one of the Hepburn girls about how a smile is the most beautiful thing a woman can put on.

A Friend Like Samwise

Although we've known each other for ten years, I love learning new things about my husband. This past week during our marrieds community group we were doing a simple icebreaker; if you could be any character from a movie, who would you pick? Nate's choice told a lot about his character. Out of all the glorified heroes and James Bonds found in Hollywood theater, Nate chose Samwise. Samwise Gamgee. Frodo's galumpy looking side-kick. Why? Because he is a loyal friend. A steady companion who will not turn back on a promise to help in the face of unknown danger and adversity. Samwise is there through it all to encourage, speak reason, and sometimes even physically carry his bestie, Frodo, along his journey. Even when the odds are terrifying. Even when he doesn't understand what's going on with his friend. Who doesn't want a friend like Samwise beside them? I'm thankful for mine.

Utility Knife: A Tool for Every Need

"You're the utility knife."

We all know not to compare. But...when you're surrounded by so many seemingly put together people it's hard not to. Through my eyes most of our friends have a clear understanding of what their very specific ministry is.

By contrast, I'm a dabbler. [dabbler: amateur, dilettante, layman, layperson; trifler, nonprofessional, nonspecialist] There is no one main target of ministry bursting forth from within me like a Care Bear stare beam of light illuminating what it is about to transform. I am involved in a number of things because I value them all and they all interconnect so strongly (marriage, motherhood, children) that I can't sever the lines of ministry between them.

Everyone else seems so sure about their very specific thing. Shouldn't I? But I don't.

It's good to have a straight-shooter husband. I verbalized my doubts to Nate and he reminded me that my desire and ability to jump into various arenas is not just okay, but needed. "You're the utility knife," he said. "People ask you to do lots of different things, because you get them done and can do them well."

It's good to be reminded that in the kitchen drawer of life there are tools for very specific purposes like the wine opener or the cheese grater, and then there is the utility knife that does a little bit of everything. I'm okay with that.