Before NGO came into our lives, I never would have dreamed that I would have been throwing a birthday party for a dog.  I am emphatically not a dog person.  I have had an irrational fear of dogs for as long as I can remember.  Even when our family had a dog when I was a teenager, I can only remember actually petting him once or twice.  I admired Scooby from a distance, but was just not inclined to get too close.  Of course, the husband and son given to me are very much dog people.  Noah started asking for a dog to live at our house when he was about two years old.  Motherhood squashes selfishness in so many ways, and this was no exception.  I relented and the search began.  NGO came to us from a rescue organization in Kentucky when she was a few months old.

Having a dog necessitates the performance of humbling duties.  This is good for our souls.  Serving something with no hope of reciprocation is a healthy exercise in selflessness.  Having a dog also provides routine and a focus on simplicity, which is something that is easily lost for me.

I assumed I was getting a dog for my kids.  They loved her instantly and rolled around in the grass and let her lick them.  I kept my distance.  But over time, I had to touch her.  I was the only adult home and she was just a puppy. We bonded and I came to enjoy her company, despite the many disgusting jobs she added to my day.  I said to my husband a few months ago, “I can’t imagine my life without a dog.”  Anyone who has known me long would consider this shocking.   But she brings joy, simplicity, companionship and happiness, for every member of our family.   She magically knows to play very roughly with our 6 year old, more gently with our 4 year old, very gently with our two year old who literally climbs on top of her, and lay calmly and protectively on the floor by our 7 month old.  She entertains and harasses the cat, and is a loyal and meaningful member of our family.

Thank you Noah and Chad for insisting on her arrival and for transforming me into a one-dog person.   Happy Birthday NGO!

Enjoy your joys for today.

My brother visited this past weekend.  I saved this short draft and title on February 23, 2010.  I don’t remember this visit in particular, but it was meaningful enough to prompt the saving of this blog idea.  A great deal has happened in my brother’s life since then.  He has graduated from college (in a shocking and impressive year and a half), completed and screened his second full-length film (please visit his website via the link provided), won a prestigious award for his most recent film, studied abroad in New Zealand and England, and is now working on two master’s degrees, one from an art school and one from a seminary.  I am in awe of his worldly accomplishments, but these are not the reasons he is my joy for today.

I have had the unspeakable privilege of witnessing my baby brother turn into a man, from the day of his birth to today.  I was 8 when Spencer was born.  I helped change his diapers and snuggled him as a baby.  When I began dating my husband, Spencer was 10.  At that time, he was often annoying, as is typical of a pre-pubescent boy.  I was probably neglectful of both him and my younger sister at times, as is typical of a self-absorbed teenager.  He recently told me that on one occasion when I was in high school, I thoughtlessly told him that he didn’t need to kiss and hug me good-bye every time he left my bedroom to go across the hall to his bedroom.  It shocked me that he remembered this incident, and I felt guilty for ever making him feel that I didn’t treasure our time together, including our partings.

As always, distance makes the heart grow fonder.  As I journeyed off to college, newlywed life in Miami, and the birth of four children, I tried to always convey how much I still treasured both my baby brother and sister.  I am not sure I always succeeded.

For now, a short but glorious time, Spencer lives down the street from us.  Having him around to spend time with our kids, have meals together, go for runs around the neighborhood, attend church, and just spend time with, is such a gift.  I hesitated in posting this blog because it is so difficult to sum up a loved one’s admirable qualities in a thousand word post.  No words could ever accomplish such a task completely.

I realized recently that I have been getting to know Spencer all over again, as an equal and a friend. I admire so many things about him, and most of all, his faith and pursuit of the Lord.  He is encouraging and intentional in relationships with those around him and makes greatness in life seem easy.  Sadly, I have realized that there were things about his childhood that I entirely missed, and I imagine this is mostly inevitable with age differences between siblings.  But I am so thankful for the opportunity to make up for lost time.

Spencer recently posted a comment on this neglected blog of mine, encouraging me to return to writing.  I received an e-mail notification of his comment, and it meant a great deal to me.  Thank you to others who have also encouraged my return.  Thank you to my baby brother for becoming a man that I am honored to call my friend.

Enjoy your joys for today.

“Hello, my name is Amber and I am a former facebook addict.”  Sometimes I feel compelled to start a support group for former facebook addicts.  I deactivated my account about a month ago and since that time, people have come out of the woodwork to confess their addiction to me.  The response from leaving has been quite surprising.

I first heard about facebook from my younger brother and sister.  Back in the day, it was mostly for college students.  Then about three years ago, I reconnected with one of my best friends, and she used it and convinced me to join.  I absolutely loved it at first.  I added pictures, endured the endless revisions to the homepage and appearance of the site; I “accepted” as “friends” people from high school that I never spoke to in my four years at the school.  I tried to maintain strict rules for who my “friends” would be but then I was convicted by our pastor that if Jesus were walking the Earth and were a member of facebook, He would not deny friendship to anyone.  The friend list grew.

There are so many things that are great about facebook and that I truly enjoyed.  I posted pictures, tagged everyone in them, added witty captions, updated my status at least weekly, and checked in at least daily.  I posted pictures of my children’s births and shared in the joy of pregnancy, new babies, new homes, and new relationships with friends that lived close by, in a different state, and in different countries.  I also really enjoyed sharing and feeling the national consciousness about events like the presidential election or the death of Michael Jackson.  For a while , I even enhanced that experience with a Twitter account.  About a year into facebook, I started a group entitled, “Never though I would join facebook, now addicted and LOVING it.”  It was funny at the time, but the beast was starting to turn on me.

I have a part-time job as an online Sociology professor.  Since I have to check my e-mail for work daily, I also would “have” to check facebook daily.  When grading endless papers, I would reward myself for grading five papers with a 10 minute relaxation period on facebook.  I could never quite figure out what was the best amount to share.  How personal should one be on the internet?  How much should you share?  How much do others care?  These questions plagued me.  At my lowest moments, when my kids would need something from the next room, I would yell to them, “Be there in a couple of minutes!” because I was too busy looking through an acquaintance’s pictures from a recent vacation.  Oh my.  The shame.

The nail in the coffin occurred one night when a friend mentioned that she heard a rumor that facebook was going to start charging for their service.  I acted surprised but was secretly overjoyed.  This was finally my out!  As soon as the friend left, I begged Google to tell me it was true.  Alas, it was not.  Facebook would be free; I was still trapped.  I knew this had to be the end; my true feelings about the experience that is facebook were painfully obvious.  I deactivated.

I hesitated to write anything about leaving facebook.  I fear seeming judgmental or smug about decisions that I make for my life that do not necessarily have any application to other’s lives. And of course, blogging is its own monster that I have voluntarily befriended, but I will have to discuss in a future post.  Ultimately, the ongoing outpouring of friends sharing their struggles with the site made it seem like a duty to write about my decision.

So, dear reader, I ask you: Do you truly enjoy facebook?  Do you check it more than you would like?  Are you friends with people who you do not really consider a friend?  Do you think of your life in terms of status updates?  Do you feel less self-worth when you receive fewer than expected comments on your photos?  Are you starting to feel that your life is only worth as much as it is noticed by the outside world?  These were all true for me.  If they are true for you, consider if the virtual world is adding joy or strife to your life.  You are in control of your presence on the world-wide web and even more importantly, of its presence in your life.  Being facebook free was a good decision for me.  If you can identify, it might be good for you too.  If not, have fun, upload those pictures proudly, and please remember to call me if you have big news to share or if a celebrity dies.  :-)

Enjoy your joys for today.

Noah’s last day of preschool was today.  Graduation was last night and he received the honesty award today at school.  I cried my eyes out, starting last night, continuing through this afternoon.  I feel tired from the expulsion of emotion.  Last night, when I felt like I could not hold the sadness in any longer, I announced to Chad, as is my custom, that I was going to cry and I needed to talk.  I’ve found it is much easier to just warn him what is coming instead of having to explain after the blubbering has already begun.

Sometimes I really wish I were a person that enjoyed things less.  I can remember being very sad about graduations since my first at about age 12.  I always seem to love the school, class, camp, job, event, vacation, add any situation here, that is currently happening.  I know in my mind that I will enjoy what is coming next, and usually I am looking forward to it, but it is still with sadness that I leave the joyful situation that has come to an end.  I am a sap; of this I am well aware.

I was very hesitant about having Noah attend preschool.  Most of all, I worried that his teachers and classmates would not recognize or appreciate his special and unique soul.  I could not have been proven more wrong.

The school that he went to is less than 5 miles from our house and has a very convenient schedule for our family.  It allowed me to have precious time with Tucker and Molly.  I felt like it really allowed Molly’s personality to shine and grow.  It was also very special to have Granny come over almost every school day in the morning and in the afternoon to stay with the little two while I went to the school.  This facilitated a great deal of acorn-gathering, game playing, and conversations between Granny and the kids.  It was such a huge blessing to have so much help from her.

Noah has loved every minute of school.  He had his first girlfriend, and shockingly but adorably, his first kiss!  There were parties, Christmas programs, and a much adored treasure box.  He and I both made meaningful friendships.  But the biggest cause of my joy for today, and so often in the past year, are his wonderful teachers.  They are two women who truly love their jobs, and the children they teach.  They cherish each of the children in such a special way.

Since this was Noah’s first year in a school setting, it was also my first experience with having a teacher get to know my son.  They had enough interaction on a weekly basis with Noah to see him grow and thankfully, love him.  Even though I did not get to talk with his teachers as much I would have ever liked, I felt like we shared a special bond, as I entrusted my son’s little life and daily happenings into their loving care.  As a first time mother of a school-age child, the importance of this in both his and my life is hard to describe.  It was a very special year and a wonderful experience for our whole family.

While reading last night, I came across a poem that so accurately described the joy that a wonderful teacher can bring to a child’s life.  Although the first part of the poem is about a painful experience with a teacher, the importance it places on the role of a teacher in a child’s life is so well described.

My Turn

by Pat Mora

My first-grade teacher’s frowns taught me

I was welcome as a fly and dull as dirt.

For one long year, timidly, I’d raise my hand

and feel the sting of her brown eyes.

Welcome as a fly and dull as dirt.

Why didn’t she see the smart me?

I’d feel the sting of my tall teacher’s eyes.

I frowned at my face in the mirror.

The next year, Mrs. Hassan saw the real me.

Her laugh floated, like bubbles, and we floated too.

I’d look at the changing face in my mirror.

We read, sang songs I still sing. I sparkled.

I still float on Mrs. Hassan’s bubbly laugh.

She wrote me a poem, taught me I was special.

Now it’s my turn, in each child, to see their spark.

Like all the Mrs. Hassans, I’ll help the glow grow.

Thank you Ms. Stephanie and Ms. Katie for making Noah’s eyes sparkle and his laugh bubble.  You will never be forgotten, and always treasured.

If you, dear reader, are so inclined, cry proudly through your graduations this season.  Enjoy your joys for today.

When Chad and I were first married, we lived in Coral Gables in Miami.  Chad was in law school and I was getting my master’s degree.  Noah was born and had his first birthday in our one-bedroom condo.  It was a wonderful place to live as a young family and this weekend, we had the chance to come back.

We drove by and visited lots of our old places.  We are staying at a condo on Key Biscayne with plenty of room for all of us, which makes the vacation extra enjoyable.  I used to work as a tutor on this tiny island, and it holds lots of memories for both Chad and me.  We shared one car at that time, so Chad spent countless hours either studying in the car before Noah was born or running on the beach after Noah was born.

Here are some of my joys of vacation, and some specifically about Miami.

• “Where is your -ami Mommy?”  Both kids think that when I say “Miami,” I actually mean My Ami.  Sooo cute!
• Parents speaking to their children in Spanish; children answering in flawless English.
• Tunnels of trees.  Old Cutler completely shielding the midday sun.
• Finally finishing lots of magazines.
• Playing Trouble, Sequence, Memory, and hide and seek with the kids.
• Early morning runs on the beach.  Really beats making countless laps around our neighborhood at home.
• Mouth-watering Cuban pastries.
• Spending most of the day in my bathing suit.
• Driving past our loving church where Noah was dedicated and we made awesome life-long friends.
• Laying by the pool while kids are napping in the condo with Chad.  There are children playing all around, none of them mine, not caring who is spraying someone else in the face with a water gun.
• Breakfast on the balcony.
• Three kids cuddling in a king-size bed.
• Returning to the park that we first took Noah to as a baby.  Taking a picture with him on the first swing we were on together, when he was six days old.
• Chicken Kitchen.
• Rickenbacker Causeway, overlooking the awe-inspiring blue-green water.
• Coconut Grove.  Visiting a tiny church thrift store on a side street, buying two kid’s books.
• Sand everywhere, in everything, from the beach.  But not having to worry about cleaning it and being able to wash clothes before going home.
• Having cable.  It seems Legally Blonde, Pretty Woman and Dirty Dancing are always on at any given time of day.

Spending time with my wonderful family is always priceless, but it is especially meaningful returning to our first home.

Enjoy your joys for today.

In some ways, it is hard for me to type those words.  My baby turning five means that five years have already passed that we have had the joy of hosting him in our home, being entrusted with his daily growth and development.  Henri Nouwen wrote, “Our children are but our must precious guests, only with us for a short time.”  He uses the word guest to help us understand that people in our lives, no matter how close, are only guests in our soul; they are not our possessions.  Our job is to love them unconditionally, without expecting anything in return.  Thinking of parenting in that way reminds me with force how precious the time with each of our children is in our home.  They are not our possessions, they are cherished gifts to love and guide in the time with which we are entrusted.

Noah turns five tomorrow and we had a big birthday party for him over the weekend.  It was the first birthday party with friends that we have ever had and it was exhausting, but fun.  I had so much help from all of my family members; my mom, dad and Granny made and brought lots of food, the balloons, and cake, and my sister helped sweep the porches, put up decorations, clean outdoor furniture, and care for Molly and Tucker.  It was definitely a group effort and I am so grateful for their help.  It was also touching to see so many of Noah’s friends, there to share his special day and celebrate his life thus far.  It was really a blessing to look out in the backyard and feel loved by so many.

Five years ago, my life changed in ways I could never have imagined even the day before it happened.  Noah, and his siblings, have taught me so many things about life and about myself.  I learned that life is certainly not all about me.  Having children makes it almost impossible to be selfish and to be a good parent simultaneously.  What is best for your children is what it is best for you.  If that means being on vacation in a beautiful, exotic, brand new destination, and having to return to a small hotel room so babies can nap, that is what is happening.  Reading the same book four or five times in a row is common.  Sleeping through the night is a privilege, not an inalienable right.  The day Noah was born is his birthday, but it is also the anniversary of Chad and me becoming parents.  What a joyous day!

Noah is such a joy to mother.  He is sweet and loving, concerned about others and an amazing, loving older brother.  He is astoundingly athletic and agile, full of energy and zest for life.  He wears his emotions on his sleeve and is inquisitive and curious about the world around him.  Every single day, he touches my heart with something kind that he does or says.  He often turns to me and says out of nowhere, “Mommy, you know what?  I love you so much.”

I love you more than words could ever express Noah.  I am proud of you and am overwhelmingly grateful to be your guide through childhood.

You are my joy for today, and many, many days to come.

Our 2-year old, Molly, has a better vocabulary than her older brother at the same age.  I think his presence and constant talking to her and at her is helpful.  She can sing many full songs, say her ABCs, count to 12, and carry on a conversation.  Most of the time she speaks very, very softly and we are always asking her to speak louder.  We don’t seem to ever have that problem with Noah…  However, she is at the age where she mispronounces so many words, and it is so adorable!  Some of our favorites:

Noah = Doah

Princess = P  (which her Daddy uses to call her his “Precious P”)

Milk= Juice

Swimming= simming

That most recent word has been used often and is one of the two main reasons for my lack of postings recently.  We have been doing every day swimming lessons with Molly for the past three weeks.  When we started, she cried the entire time and kicked and screamed on the way to the pool.  Today, she jumped in the water to her beloved teacher, Miss Lisa, swam underwater, floated, and made it to the side by herself.  As soon as she got out of the water, she said, “I love swimming Mommy.”  It has been great to see her progress and her newfound love of the water, but it has been exhausting for me to have to drive half an hour away every day.

The second reason that I have been a reclusive blogger is the plague of colds and flu that have been going around our home.  It has been pretty much all I can handle to maintain my daily responsibilities and fall into bed around 9 pm.  All five of our family members have not been healthy at the same time for at least the past month.  Praying so much for a time of health for at least a few weeks!

This explanation is mostly for my most faithful blog reader, my brother.  More on him in a future post.  :-)

Signing off for today and looking forward to Molly waking up from her nap and greeting me with her beautiful voice and cuddly arms.  Enjoy your joys for today!

I must admit that I know very, very little about any winter sport.  I have been snow skiing once or twice, never owned a pair of ice skates, and generally dislike winter weather that consists of temperatures below 70.

However, my persuasive husband can convince me to watch just about any sport.  He does not spend much time at all watching sports, so when he does, I know it must be important.  A few months ago, he got me to watch almost the entire World Series. which I really enjoyed.  We watched every Penn State football game, and thanks to the influence of our dear friend big Ellen, watched quite a few NFL games as well.  Most recently, in the past few weeks, we have watched cross country skiing, downhill skiing, hockey, curling, and speed skating.

The final match of men’s hockey just came to a close.  Canada won in overtime.  My husband told me a random statistic (completely unverified yet very interesting) that 70% of Canadians were watching this game.  For this reason, all in our household were betraying our citizenship by rejoicing in the Canadian victory.  As I may have mentioned in previous posts, I wholeheartedly believe that excellence in all areas should be recognized and celebrated.  The Olympics are a perfect visual example of this belief.  If I start training now, think I could be ready for the next Olympic curling trials?

For those of you with daughters, you will be sure to understand.  Having a girl is such a gift and so different than mothering boys.  Thus far this morning, my little princess has dressed herself in a crown and tutu, attended a dance party in her big brother’s room, attempted to care for her little brother, sucked her thumb a lot, and played outside extensively.  She is so much more sensitive and dramatic than her brothers.  Almost every day, she wears some form of dress-up clothes; and also cares for her baby dolls.

There is a lot to be said for the debate over how much gender differences are inborn.  I absolutely believe that there are huge genetic differences between girls and boys that result in differences in toy preference, personality, among many, many other things.  In an undergraduate psychology course, I remember there being some discussion about whether there were innate gender differences actually existed or were forced by their parents.  Whoever was debating this clearly never had both male and female children.

Our sweet Princess Molly is at the age where she mispronounces lots of words.  One of my favorites is how she says her brother’s name: “Doah.”  A few months ago, she could not pronounce “princess,” so she would say “p” instead.  We started calling her “p” and it just stuck.  My joy for today is my lifelong friend, my precious p.

I am disclosing something that should probably be embarrassing.  I have spent all of today, and plan to spend the rest of the day, in my pajamas.  Do not misunderstand; I do enjoy being social, somewhat busy, and out of the house at times, but at this point in my life, I am always also struggling against being over committed.  My mom can sense when I am feeling weary of the demands outside of the house and will ask, “Do you need a pajama day?”

As a child, some of my favorite memories were playing house with my siblings, performing homemade plays, watching cartoons, and generally spending time at home.  We had traditional game nights, movie nights, and always had dinner as a family.  This notion is too large for this one post about pajamas, but I believe that making your home an enjoyable place for both yourself and your children is an important aspect of keeping them close as they grow.

Stay at home or work at home moms as I guess I should technically call myself, have both advantages and disadvantages over the rest of the general population.  We get the amazing privilege of witnessing the daily development of our children.  We see each first step, hear every first word, and play each new game.  But we also cook each meal, wipe every stinky butt, and dry every tear.  We are vastly underestimated.  We are a taxi service, disciplinarian, social secretary, teacher, and nurse.  We grow children, birth children, nurse children, feed children, change children, and nurture children.  It is a job with overwhelming responsibility, little worldly reward, and marvelous joy.

One of the marvelous joys of my job is spending a rainy day in my pajamas, playing games, reading books, watching a movie, and making memories with my precious little ones.  So when the UPS man rings the door bell and I answer in my pajamas at two o’clock in the afternoon, I do feel a twinge of embarrassment.  But as I close the door behind me, I hope for him, and for you as well dear reader, the gift of treasuring the magical mundane activities that occur on a blessed pajama day.