Wordless Wednesday {It's Almost Here}

A Very Special Family Day {Maybe the Best Part?}

I had grand intentions tonight of finishing the full post about our amusement park trip; but although I did indeed start it, I know I need to do the mature thing and make myself go to bed, rather than staying up all night and finishing it.  :)  But let me just say one special thing about our trip.

Most of the time, Moriah was in the stroller, of course, since her little 17-month-old legs couldn't possibly cover the distance we needed to cross.  But a few times, when we were lingering in an area for a while, I got her out of the stroller and let her walk around.  She loved it.  

 She was quick to grin at those who passed by and smiled at her or spoke to her, but two people in particular caught her attention.  The first was a black man who was running one of the rides in the kiddie section.  For a while, he had no one on the ride or in line, so since he had nothing to do, he watched Moriah as she walked around.  And she watched him.  She would walk towards him and pause to look up at him, then he would hold out his hand over the fence, and she would reach out and touch it before walking away.  Then she would circle around and come back to do it all over again.  It was obvious that the simple joy of this sweet baby girl was lighting up his day...and she was receiving so much delight from him paying attention to her.  I didn't raise my camera to snap a photo because I thought it would be tacky, but I wish I had a picture of her little white hand laying in the palm of his big black one.  I'd like to send a copy to everyone in the world and say, "See?  THIS is how it's supposed to be!"

Later in a different area of the park, there was a young man of Middle Eastern descent sitting on a bench, waiting for his companions.  Moriah was again out of the stroller, walking around; and wouldn't you know, she chose to go towards him, pause a short distance away, and smile at him.  At first, he seemed a little taken-aback; but as she continued to do so, his reserve melted a little, and he would smile back at her, say "hi" in an accented voice, and give a little wave.  Again, I wished for a picture, but let the camera of my heart go "click" as I took a mental one.

Through both of these events, I discovered something:  Moriah is colorblind.

Oh, not literally.  As far as we know, she is able to tell the difference between a red ball and a blue ball, a green cup and a pink one.  But when it comes to the color of people's skin - and even more, the implications of those colors - she is as blind as a bat.

And I thank God for that.

When she smiled at the Middle Eastern man, she didn't wonder if he was a terrorist.  When she walked towards the black man, she didn't have the word "criminal" float through her head.  She doesn't know who George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin are, or have an opinion about what really happened that night.  She doesn't know - or care - anything about Al Qaeda.  To her, people are people; and if they smile and say "hi" to her, that's all that matters.

Saturday night, Jeff and I went to a new Middle Eastern restaurant in our town for our date night; and besides the delicious food, we enjoyed the atmosphere - listening to the language, savoring the tastes, remembering the cultures we experienced when we lived in the Middle East.  As I confessed to Jeff, it actually made me homesick for Israel.  I'm so grateful that the Iraqi family who owns the restaurant is here in our corner of the world.  My town is richer because of it.

Today I saw some news headlines about the Miss America contest.  I don't normally follow news from the world of beauty pageants, but I discovered that there's been some uproar over the fact that the winner this year is a (beautiful, I might add!) woman of Indian descent.  Apparently some (totally ignorant, and I'd like to use stronger adjectives than that) people felt like she's not American enough (even though she was born and raised in America).  How utterly ridiculous!  (And I'd like to use stronger exclamations than that!)

I want to live in my daughter's world.  I want to have a heart of pure innocence, where people are judged by the expression on their face* rather than the pigmentation of their skin.

* Yes, I know that facial expressions can be deceiving, that not everyone who smiles is truly friendly, and that Moriah will need to be taught to be cautious around strangers.  I'm not advocating an unwise trust of amusement park employees.  I'm not suggesting that when Moriah is a few years older, she should approach young men sitting on benches.  I'm definitely going to teach her about abuse and how to prevent it, as well as accepted social etiquette.  And needless to say, I'll keep watching her like a hawk - just like I did during this recent experience.  But I'm sure you can understand the point I'm making.

The point is this: I wish we could all be colorblind.

Just like Moriah.

A Very Special Family Day {Sneak Peek}

Took a road trip today.

 Had a blast at a new-to-us amusement park.

Tired now.

(Happy, too!)

The End

:)

When My Kitchen Is an Absolute MESS

I don't know how it is in your home; but in mine, having the kitchen go from relatively neat and orderly to utter chaos only takes a few hours--or less.  Normal life in a family of seven has been known to occasionally cause messes.  ;-)  But other causes for me are:

1. days in which we're gone from home most of the day, especially if we've gone grocery shopping, and I'm not at home to do the routine straightening and putting-away that naturally occurs at multiple times during a day at home,

2. days in which I can or freeze food,

3. days in which I prepare a meal to take to someone else, and

4. holidays (like the 4th of July, which is when I took the pictures in this post).

I admit that at times, when I look around at clutter that covers every flat surface and piles of dirty dishes that won't fit in the dishwasher (or are too stubborn to actually let themselves get cleaned in such a device), I can start feeling discouraged in a hurry.  But recently I've started analyzing some steps I take to restore order, and I've discovered that it's not rocket science!  These steps are really quite basic, but it's helpful for me to write them out in a list.  That way, the next time I feel like my kitchen is next thing to a pigsty, I'll shrug and say, "No biggie.  I know how to whip this room back into shape in a jiffy!"  :)

My first step is kind of silly, but for me it's extremely helpful to take a minute or two to go through the living room and put away things that are out of place: cushions back on the couch, games back in the closet, books back on the shelves, toys back in the baskets, etc.  My living room is actually a pretty easy room to keep neat because I basically know where everything goes in that room.  If there are a lot of things out, I call the boys to come help me do a Room Rescue; they're so familiar with that that they don't even fuss much (most of the time).  ;-)  Once that room is orderly again, I find myself ready to tackle the kitchen.

My second step is to turn on some music.  It's fun to pull out my big case of CDs and look through the pages to find one that's just right for that particular cleaning-up session.  :)

My third step is to pour a drink.  Recently my drink of choice has most often been my mother's stevia-sweetened iced tea, which she so faithfully prepares every day to keep Jeff and I well-stocked!  :)  But when it's cooler, some hot tea or hot chocolate or something along those lines sure tastes good, too.  Once in a while, if I'm really having a hard time convincing myself to be energetic enough to clean up the kitchen, I'll splurge and have a Vanilla Coke; and occasionally, I'll even drink plain ol' ice water.  :)

My fourth step is to empty the dishwasher, and obviously that's so I'll have space to put the dirty dishes I'll clear off the table and counters.

My fifth step is to choose a zone.  FlyLady talks a lot about zones within a house, and I've adapted that idea on a smaller scale to divide my kitchen into different areas.  I have five zones: 

1. the long black bench,

2. the kitchen table,

3. the telephone counter, as I call it,

4. the counter between the stove and the sink, and

5. the counter between the sink and the refrigerator.

When I'm ready to start the work of restoring order, it helps me so much to simply choose one of those areas to tackle first.  Rather than flitting around and putting away a cereal box from the table followed by a piece of junk mail on the telephone counter and then a bag of groceries on the black bench and then a stack of dirty plates on the counter followed by some eggs that Tobin and Shav carried in from the chickens and set down on the table, I (try to!) focus my efforts on one area at a time, dealing with each item there, and--the best part!--feeling a wonderful sense of accomplishment as I make a clear space.  The energy that comes from completing one section propels me on to attack the next one.

My sixth step, which usually comes into play when I'm dragging a little, is to repeat to myself this motto: "Pick up one thing at a time.  All you have to do is reach out and grab one thing.  Just pick it up, that one thing, and deal with it.  That's all you have to do!"  That keeps me moving forward, even when I'd rather quit.  :)

If I had an official seventh step, it would be this: enjoy the sense of accomplishment.  Pause every now and then to remember, for example, what that black bench looked like when it was piled with bags of groceries and books from violin lessons and the diaper bag and a random sock someone dropped there.  And now stop and look at it: totally uncovered, clear of all clutter.  Ah, beautiful!  :)  

I don't usually take pictures of this process, of course.  :)  But for this blog post, I did; and it was especially rewarding to see the contrast between the before & after shots of each zone.  Hey, maybe I should take pictures of this transformation more often, just to keep my spirits up!  ;-)

A general shot of the kitchen on the Fourth of July, with my dear Shavi finishing his lunch:

The black bench before:

The black bench after (and I'll add that since then, I've found new homes for these books, even the basket of books we were using for homeschooling, so these days when this bench is cleared off, it's totally cleared off):

The table before:

The table after:

The telephone counter before:

The telephone counter after:

The counter between the stove and the sink before:

The counter between the stove and the sink after:

The counter between the sink and the refrigerator before:

The counter between the sink and the refrigerator after:

Let me tell you something about this last set of pictures.  First, I did not take that final picture on July 4th when the others were taken.  Reason being, I didn't get that zone fully cleaned up on that day.  There are many times when I get the first four zones neat and clean, and then get stuck at this fifth zone.  It's frustrating to me, to be sure; but I've also discovered that, even if I only get some of the zones cleaned up, it's a whole lot better than having none of them organized.  Progress is a good thing, even if the entire task doesn't get done at one time.

Having a little bit of a mess in one area is far superior to having an absolute mess in every square inch of surface space!

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do in my kitchen.  Is my living room picked up?  Yes!  Do I have a drink?  You bet, but my glass of iced tea might need refilled; I'll do that first. But...hmmm...what music to listen to?

What a fun thing to ponder.  I think, to be different, I just might choose a Christmas CD...   :)

When Is a Couch Not a Couch?

When

 it's

 a

 secret

 hide-out

 for

 two

 little

 boys!  :)

 But - uh oh - what will happen when little sister comes along?

Will there be enough room for her, too?

;-)

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday {The First Time I Cried on Sept. 11...}

...was not in 2001...

...but in 1997 when my maternal grandfather died.

Four years before September 11 was anything but an ordinary day on the calendar, it became a day of mourning for us.

What I Really Wanted to Do Tonight {and What I Really Did}

After I got Moriah tucked into bed tonight, all I really wanted to do was flop on the couch and read a book, Lion of Babylon by Davis Bunn.  It's been years since I read a Davis Bunn book; but someone recently surprised Jeff by giving this one to him, and he enjoyed it so much that, of course, I wanted to read it, too.  :)

But there were these peaches, you see, just lazing around on our air hockey table, their round cheeks getting redder and redder all the time, and--horrors!---some of them were even developing bad spots.  If I didn't use them, I was gonna lose them...and I HATE to do that.

One thing I've learned as I've gotten older is that maturity means doing the right thing, even when you don't feel like it - doing what you need to do, rather than what you want.  So I decided to act like a grown-up and can peaches.

14 quarts later, I'm glad to have that task done (although there are still more peaches on the air hockey table, but they'll save for tomorrow).  And since I'm waiting on some jars that are still in the canner, I think I just might sit down on the couch and read a little of that book after all.  :)

The only question is: will I act like a grown-up and only read until the jars come out of the canner?

Or will I do what I really want to do and stay up until I finish the book?

Hmmmm.  Maybe I'm not so mature after all.  ;-)