Lingering

Though time has stood still for me in the past two weeks, reality has been marching on. As I begin to emerge from my baby-stupor I see that the calendar is already in January. Of 2009. I have no idea how we got here.

My Christmas tree is still up, dripping needles on the carpet. My Christmas CD's still fill the stereo, and Christmas cookies are still festively out on the kitchen table. I know its time to take this all away, but I long to leave it right where it is.

This year's Advent season was the most beautiful and significant of my life. As my body and soul prepared for the coming of my own son, the period of Advent waiting for Christ's birth was vividly real to me. The memories that I have of this time are so precious to me, representing something so profound and significant that I don't want to leave them behind or move on quite yet.

I am writing this on a quiet evening, in a dim room, with the Christmas lights shining from our tree. My two week old son is curled up on my chest, sleeping. Just days ago we were strangers, but we were one. Now we are two, but the closest and best of friends.

It was here that I sat in the weeks of Advent, before the tree, listening to Fernando Ortega's Christmas album, contemplating the road ahead of me, the pain, the joy, my anxiety, my expectations, the wonder, and the work. It was here, with the tree and the lights and the music where I sat and quieted myself, opening up my soul, doing all I could to prepare myself to surrender to what might come. It was here where, during the three nights I labored without reward, I "tailor sat" on the ground late at night, listening to the music, illuminated only by the tree's colored lights, and prayed, and cried, and asked for strength, for deliverance, for my son, and for myself.

And it is here where my family of four now spends our evenings, lights off, babies sleeping, music playing. It is here with these same songs and these same twinkling lights that I hold my sleeping newborn against my chest, watching in delight as my toddler enchants me with his life.

It will be hard to pack this all away and admit that time has not actually stood still, that this season was precious but our waiting and expectations and these early days of small things are already gone. Of course, so many more still lie ahead. But somehow the connection with Advent and Christmas have become so deeply symbolic to me that I wish we could linger in this season just a moment longer.

I had no idea how big and grown up Asher was until I met his tiny baby brother. I had no idea how tiny my new born Little Bee was until I brought Asher into the room to meet him. I had no idea how fleeting and fragile life was until I saw how very quickly each long day passes. One son must be held all day, all night, while my other son can not be stopped even for a quick hug or hand hold. Yet when I look at this infant in my arms I see them both, and my heart equally expands and breaks as I remember what has gone by so quickly, and realize what will pass so swiftly again.

I am grateful for every moment I have to live and breathe, and doing so with these two miracles of joy is my greatest delight, my extravagant blessing. Linger with me, my sons, in these first days, in the dawning moments of your lives. You are so eager to rush forward, to take ahold of life, as you should be. And I am eager for this too. But sit with me beneath the tree one more time. If I can hold you tightly for just one moment I will have the strength I need to let you grow.

Delightful

Dolphins jumping, yellow and green, never seen such beauty, until now. Your face is the sun that weaves the sea (at least that's the way it seems to me now). You are the scent of life and green. Your hand draws flowers, black and white, dancing...Found in pieces of delight and countless hours. You are a breath of light. 

What could be more delightful, what could be more delightful, 

Who could be more bright and joyful than you...

-- Harrod and Funk, Hand Draws Flowers

Tonight the four of us ventured out for the first time. All four of us, no one missing; just the four of us, no one extra. We found places for each of us in the car, drove to our favorite restaurant, and then out for ice cream. We ate and laughed and sang and worked together and survived. It was spectacular. When we got back home, Asher hurried around the house to turn off all the lights, then plugged in the Christmas tree, asked Daddy to light candles, and beckoned us all to come into the living room were he "cooked" us "snacks" and "read" us stories. My heart could not have been more full.

Earlier in the evening I enjoyed the background music the restaurant was playing. My fortune cookie instructed me to "Dance like there is no one watching" and Asher expected me to take it seriously. The two of us sang and danced to "Hey Jude" and The Carpenters to name just a few. Then Brian Adam's "Everything I Do I Do it for You" came on. "Brian Adams - wow" said my husband, and we both began to reminisce about Junior High and all the memories and emotions we associated with that song; though we went to Jr. High thousands of miles away and years apart, it seems to be a song that was universally obsessed over by teenagers.

I know that the days (and nights!) ahead will bring chaos and desperation and less than idyllic feelings.  But tonight was a time to become Four, a chance to meet each other for the first time.  I have known my husband for years, but never before as the father of two.  I have known Asher for awhile, but never as a big brother.  They have known me, but never before as I am now. And Little Bee is entirely new.  We are entirely new.

As the love song played on, Jr. High and all its self importance and intensity seemed so small, so far away.  I looked at my first born son then my newly born infant son.  Could there be a better season of life than this one?  Could there be stronger emotions or deeper love than what I feel for these two precious boys?  I would rather be right here, right now, singing and dancing with these two boys than anywhere else on earth.  Whatever tomorrow brings, I am grateful for this moment.  I am delighted in this moment. 

What could be more delightful...what could be more bright and joyful...than you. 

Brothers, part 2

Below: Newborn Asher

Below: Newborn Little Bee

All because of the Christmas lights

Ten years ago it was December of 1998. I was a Senior in college with just one semester left. Most of my friends had either graduated early or were engaged and busy planning their futures. I was suffering from Senioritis and bored.

I worked one evening a week for a nearby church in their Children's program with several other college students. We had fun together every Wednesday night but for the most part didn't cross paths in our everyday lives. One December evening after work as we drove back to campus we passed a neighborhood decorated with Christmas lights. I mentioned that, being stuck on campus with no car, I missed going out and seeing the lights and decorations on cold wintry evenings. One of my co-workers mentioned that he drove the campus shuttle two nights a week; if I wanted to ride along with him one night we could drive around and see some lights.

And so, that Saturday evening, I did. I remember absolutely nothing about the evening except this: when he dropped me back off at my apartment he said "I shuttle again on Tuesday, I'll pick you up and you can ride along!" I remember thinking - how funny that he would think I'd want to ride around in his school van a second time. I also remember thinking - how funny that I think I actually do.

And so began a tradition that would last until I graduated the next Spring. He would knock on my apartment window with his two-way radio and I'd come out and ride around town with him. His shuttle was "on call" so he had no route to follow; if a call would come in we would shuttle the students around. And when there were no calls we drove around, talked, did homework, explored campus, crashed concerts and plays, watched movies, made donuts, sampled olives, shopped, tried new restaurants, launched practical jokes.

My friends and roommates thought I had gone insane. We referred to this radio-carrying-shuttle-driving friend never by name, only as "my friend the shuttle driver" and no one knew what to make of this strange new aspect in my life.

When I graduated that May he tore out a piece of phone book paper, wrote his name, phone number, and home address on it and gave it to me. I put it in my wallet thinking I'd never talk to him again. Ten years later I still have this worn out scrap in my wallet.

It was two full years after that before we started dating, and two full years after that before we were married.

Even now we agree that those "my friend the shuttle driver" days were just friendly. There were plenty of reasons why neither of us would have thought to make them into anything more. But each December when I see the Christmas lights shimmering through the snowy neighborhoods I remember that were it not for his offer of driving me around to see them 10 years ago, we would never have gotten to know each other. My life would look very, very different right now.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to my Husband.

Santa Baby

Since I have no time to actually think or write anything...and since I can't think of a better use of time than staring at Asher and Little Bee...I figured we could all use a few more pictures.

Brothers

Before our baby was born, Asher and I were playing one of our standard pretend games. We both hide under a blanket, pretending to be bees sleeping underground all winter, then emerging when Asher informs us that its Spring, and is raining, hence there will be flowers to nibble again. (This game started in an attempt to convince him that not every scratch or itch he gets is a bee bite, especially when its zero degrees out). During one of these playtimes he named me "Mommy bee," himself "Asher bee," and the baby in my tummy "Little bee." And he has not allowed anyone to call the baby anything different ever since.

The day our baby was born, we had this conversation with Asher:

Mommy: Asher, we need to name our baby. Do you like (possible name #1) or (possible name #2)?

Asher: No like those names. Little Bee.

Mommy: Yes. You're right. His name is Little Bee. But we need a second name. Do you like (possible name #1) or (possible name #2)?

Asher: No. One name. Little Bee.

We did eventually settle on a name, but Asher is not a fan. If anyone should slip and call the baby by his first name, Asher will interrupt and say adamantly:

No like that name. One name. Little Bee.

So Little Bee it is.

Introducing...

"Little Bee"

Hopefully many, many better pictures will be following.  

Merry Christmas!  

Our Advent waiting is finally over. 

He is born!

While we still have three days left to wait for His birth, my waiting is finally over.  Today, December 22, 2008, at 2:50pm, after three days of pre-labor, 16 hours of day-of labor, and onlyten minutes of pushing (not to mention only ten excruciating minutes going from 8-10 centimeters), our son has been born. 

He weighs in at 6lbs, 14oz, 20.25 inches long.  Stay tuned for the name announcement; in the meantime, Asher has dubbed him "Little Bee."  

We are exhausted, we are rejoicing. I am delivered, he is born. 

Just born!  In the first picture, the end of labor went so quickly that Matthew didn't have time to get his shirt on after helping me with a hot shower.  In the second picture, Asher meets his brother for the first time and asks if he can hold him.  This is all so unreal....

26

I don't believe in lucky numbers.  At least, I don't think I do.  But sometimes its hard not to. 

I was born on the 26th.  My husband and I stared dating on the 26th.  We were married on the 26th, when I was 26 years old.  My firstborn was conceived on the 26th.  And I was once given a scratch-off lottery ticket which instructed me to first scratch off the "lucky" number and then see if any of the remaining 6 numbers matched it; if so I would win the amount under the matching number.  When I scratched off the "lucky" number I laughed when I saw it was a 26.  "This will be a winning ticket!" I announced to my friends standing by "because 26 is my lucky number!"  Of course, I was joking...kind of.  But when I scratched off the six numbers below?  Not just one but each and every one of them was a 26.  

So, make of that what you will.  Suffice it to say when I heard that my due date for my first son was on the 2oth of July, it seemed obvious to me that he would be a few days late and come on the 26th.  I even gave this date out as my due date a few times, accidentally, forgetting.  

Instead, the universe tilted a bit.  I went into labor on my due date (the 20th) and he was born two days later on the 22nd.  

So when I heard my Doctor suggest we schedule this baby's delivery for the 26th, I felt there was some poetic justice there.  But who knows?  The universe may yet tip again...

Baby Update - but not THE update

Warning!  This is a factual, non-poetic post which (considering some are offended/shocked that I post pictures of my pregnant belly on the internet) may be TMI to some.  But since others are clamoring for news, here it is!

This morning I had my "overdue" pre-natal appointment, something I've never done before.  I was asked a bunch of questions, my answers to which got this response: "You're failing this test!"  (Luckily, the test was Am I about to go into labor?  not Does the baby seem to be ok?)  Yes, the baby is moving, all the time.  Yes, I was having contractions...but actually they seem to be slowing down instead of increasing.  Still dilated 1.5 cms; "not as effaced as I'd like to see" (says the Doctor).  

So apparently I'm not in huge danger of going into quick, easy labor anytime soon.  

Then came the tests.  The non-stress test and an ultrasound to check fluid levels and determine (educated guess) how the placenta is holding up.  We passed both with flying colors.  And though I was hoping to see my baby boy with my eyes, in my arms by now...it was just great to see him, and to listen to his heart beat for thirty minutes.  

The conclusion to all this is that I'm nearly a week overdue, apparently not progressing much towards labor, but everything seems healthy and fine.  As a result the Doctor suggested holding off induction until I was two weeks overdue.  When he looked at his calendar he said "Catherine!  Next week is Christmas!" which had at no time escaped my awareness.  

So induction is scheduled for December 26th, 2008, 7:30am.    

This is an adjustment in expectations for me.  But I'm glad to hear that my baby seems fine and its a relief to have an end date at last.  Its also somewhat of a relief to put off, at least artificially, the feeling that it could (or should?) be any moment.  And it was great to see him.

So my mental focus is shifting a bit to Christmas and relatives and winter.  Which I'm sure means he'll surprise me again and come later today.  Or at least, I can hope.  :)

Since I've got some time, entertain and encourage me with all your comforting stories of babies coming overdue naturally, or induction experiences that went fine.  Ok?  

Mr. Smarty Pants

For all of you checking in frequently for news and wanting to cut to the chase...still waiting...

Since the day of his birth, Asher has never been afraid to express strong, independent opinions or downright disagree with his mommy and daddy.  Recently, he's become more straightforward about it.  Two of his most-used phrases these days are "No.  Mommy wrong." and "No. Daddy wrong."  If the (perceived) mistake is a funny one, this might change to (laughing tone) "Ha ha!  Mommy wrong."  If it is a serious mistake it changes to (urgent tone) "Uh oh!  Daddy wrong!"

There's never a hint of question in his voice though, never any self doubt.  Clearly, we are wrong, and that's that.  This cracks me up to no end.  Whatever happened to kids thinking their parents knew everything until age 12 or so?  

His criticism is not limited to his parents, however.  Yesterday in church the Scripture was being read and, since there were Christmas trees, lights, candles, and an orchestra to help out, I encouraged Asher to listen.  The reader said the words "light of the world" and Asher loudly asked "why light of world?"  I tried explaining to him in a whisper what we were hearing.  Then, the reader said "say to the towns of Judah..." and Asher's little voice exploded with incredulity.  "Judah?!  No Judah!  Ha ha.  No town, Judah.  That wrong.  No Judah.  Ha ha."  (keep in mind that Asher thinks of Judah as a playmate of his, and a name we are considering for his baby brother).  

You really have to have heard him correct someone in this tone to know how funny it sounds.  Everyone within several rows of us snickered, smiled, and half turned.  We left soon after that. 

At least I know he was listening.

Pain and Love - in the bag

Today is my due date!  But still waiting...

When I was pregnant the first time, I read this fantastic book about pregnancy and motherhood.  In it the author, about to give birth to her third child, mentioned that she was more terrified of the pain than before her first two births because this time she knew what it was like.  No more forgetting or mystery, she knew what she would have to go through.  

I commented on this to a friend of mine saying this surprised me and seemed hard to believe. At least for a chronic worrier like myself anticipating the known is almost always easier than anticipating the unknown.  Though I fully believed that labor and delivery pain and work would be far more than I could imagine, still the fear itself would be less once I knew, wouldn't it? 

I was so wrong.  Yes, I did labor for 37.5 hours.  And yes, though there were no complications there was plenty that was complicated, limiting my coping mechanisms and making things harder than they would otherwise have been.  But in this second pregnancy those lines from the book have echoed in my mind from start to near-finish.  I do know what I have to fear now, and I didn't before.  And I have willingly signed up to do it again.  And when I think about it, I am terrified.  

One of the hardest things about labor pain, at least for me, is the fight-or-flight phenomenon. When your brain registers pain or danger it send all its resources into making sure that you get out of it - by fighting, by fleeing, whatever it takes.  But with labor pain there is nothing to fight, nowhere to flee; in fact, trying to fight will only make things worse, much worse.  Instead, you must surrender to the pain, let it flow through you, allow it to do what it came for.  This is physically hard, but the mental game is harder.  How to stop fighting the pain when that is what our bodies are programmed to do?  How to surrender, hour after hour, to something that my body insists on an instinctual level I must fight?

But.  There is something else I didn't know before which I know now.  At the end of my first pregnancy people said "you must be so excited to meet your baby!"  I felt a little guilty when the honest answer was "not really."  I certainly wanted the baby, I just had no real concept of him.  I knew he would change my life with love unlike anything else - but I was not any more able to conjure up that love ahead of time than I was labor pains.  Sleepless nights, eternal life change - those things I could imagine.  So when during labor I was prompted to "focus on the baby!" I just couldn't make sense of how that was supposed to help me. 

This time is different.  This time, as often as I flash back to the unrelenting pain of delivering a baby and the unrelenting demands of a newborn, I flash back to the amazing, miraculous, incomparable moment of meeting your child for the first time.  The pain and struggle and difficulty are there for a purpose, they are working with me towards a goal I can now say I desperatly desire to achieve.

Now I know pain.  But also, I know love.  And that is why these pictures are coming along with me to the hospital.  My heart, having been entirely stolen, is ready to be stolen again.  

More good neighborly chit chat

One aspect of being days shy of 40 weeks pregnant is the response I get from strangers wherever I go.  There's no anonymity anymore - everyone who sees me, sees me, and registers a response somewhere between affection and alarm.  This leads to delightful and hilarious exchanges with perfect strangers.  

Since this pregnancy is ending in December rather than July I'm staying home more and bundled up in sweatshirts instead of walking around town in t-shirts.  So the impact hasn't been quite as entertaining as these comments.  But I've still heard a few gems. 

1. While walking down a hallway recently a woman eyed me going by.  When I neared her, she put her hand out towards me and asked suspiciously, "are you in labor?"

2. A retired anesthesiologist that I met at a Christmas party chatted with me for awhile, then left saying, "May you have a wonderful delivery, a healthy baby, and a perfect epidural!"

3. One cashier, a male, commented that I must be nearly due.  When I confirmed that I was, he made a little sign with his fingers and said "God's blessing on you and your child."

4. Another cashier, a female, took one look at me and said "well, at least you're not a man!  Did you hear that man is pregnant again??" 

5. A woman that I did not know came up to me and told me that a man she did not know had just come up to her and said "Now, I've learned my lesson, and I never assume that someone is pregnant.  But that lady?  She's definitely pregnant!"

Of course, I can't capture the facial expressions that I encounter daily.  But I find they all almost make up for the discomfort involved in lumbering around.  Seriously, now go click on the link and read last pregnancy's hilarious commentors...

More Waiting

Yesterday began the second week in Advent.  We are waiting...

There seems to be something audaciously naive about being 39 weeks pregnant. We say things like "I'm excited!" or "I'm so ready."  But I am standing on the precipice, the cusp of one of the most life changing moments in life, one which I can neither predict nor control.  How can I possibly stand in such a dizzying place?  

Soon - maybe today, maybe next week - I will enter into labor. As women have known since the dawn of time, this is a life's work; there is pain, demands, danger.  There is no getting out of it or around it.  There is no predicting it or controlling it.  

And then, there is the baby. We know a lot more than we used to, ahead of time, but yet he remains a complete mystery to me.  What will he look like?  Will he be healthy?  Special needs? Difficult or charming personality?  Entirely in the dark about all these factors, I am committed to him forever, body and soul.  I will embrace him into myself, into my family, into my future.  And most startling of all, into my firstborn son.  Not just for the unknowns of now, but the unknowns of 10 years from now, 20 years from now.  Everything he is and will be, I am now making room for in the midst of all that is most sacred to me.  

Where else in life do we rush so heedlessly?  Who else would I ever invite into my life with so much love and commitment, and so little vetting?  

I waddle slowly up the icy steps and into the coffee shop where I am meeting a friend.  Everyone in the building, strangers to me, watch me as I move, beam at me affectionately, pronounce blessings upon me, and graciously describe me as "glowing" and "radiant" as I continue to lug my large, cumbersome self to a chair.  I answer their questions with the cheerful-yet-awkward smile that matches the rest of my body: yes, due this week; yes, any time now; yes, so ready!  yes, so excited! 

There is something very deep, very spiritual about this time of waiting and the life-giving culmination that is coming soon.  There is something about this lesson that, having taken over my very body and self, sinks deep into my soul as well.  I am learning something, I am being changed.  My mind is concentrating on lifting each foot and setting it back down again without too much pain, but my soul is being taught.  Waiting, surrender, sacrifice, realization of one's lack of control, giving a "yes" to what may come, whatever may come - this is how we are deepened, purified, strengthened. 

I am standing (with one hand on my lower back where this boy has wedged his head against my spine; with the other hand supporting my over-crowded belly in front) on the cusp, on the precipice.  I am looking forward, always forward, but can see nothing.  And yet I am continuing on ahead, believing myself to be excited, ready to meet whatever comes.  
It is surrender, it is hope.  I am literally bursting with life.

Snowy mornings and Gingerbread Houses!

We spent this cold, snowy, December Saturday morning at a Christmas party, making Gingerbread Houses with all of our friends!  Santa Claus also showed up to the party.  Asher's response was to say he was a "little bit scared" and since then has been asking "why that man?" and "why red?" and "why 'Ho-ho'?"  

Also: before the party we did a "Little Buddies" tour of the hospital (toddlers get to visit the nursery to see the newborns, where their mommies will be, and a few other things like "your baby will have a silly looking belly button" and "only mommies and daddies should put the bulb syringe in your baby's nose.").  As we peered through the glass at the newborns I glanced over at the closest baby's ID tag, nostalgically remembering the identical sticker Asher wore.  And then had a huge existential startling when I realized they were identical - this baby boy's mother was listed as "C. McNiel."  I'm still recovering a bit from the shock...

Bonus Material

Waiting around for this baby, I finally got around to uploading videos. You'll have to take a trip back in time, but here is Asher in his poetry-inspiring red jammies. And here is Asher counting to 10 and singing the ABCs. And, I did a post with pictures of our Halloween festivities and dated it October instead of December for obvious reasons, which you can see here.

For those of you who check in primarily for Asher pictures and videos, this is your lucky day! Don't miss them!

But since we're on the topic...have I mentioned how adorable Asher is? He has so many cute expressions these days. If asked a question he'll say "Um...Hmmmm." Then "I Know!" or "Ah Ha!"and give his answer. He never just calls for me, but instead calls in a sing song voice "Mo-mmy, where ARE you?" and it is the cutest thing. He refers to groups of two or more as "hey guys!" and before using his toy vacuum cleaner he'll warn us that he's about to make a loud noise (a courtesy he appreciates we make for him as well). Occasionally, he'll say he needs to "sit down for awhile" or "lay down for a bit" because he's had "a hard day." I wonder where he's heard that before...

But most adorable of all - last night I went in to him when he called, wishing I was sleeping. He stood up in his crib and gave me a hug. I said "I love you, Asher." And he said - for the first time - "Love you too!" then gave me a kiss.

Ahhhhh......

Prenatal

"I am the Lord's servant...may it be to me as you have said." - Luke 1:38

"With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a man." - Genesis 4:1

It is time to draw near again

To come home to You, to what is deep within me, and to those who gather around me

To watch and to wait; to be open, to surrender, to accept

To seek out peace, quietness, meditation, and prayer. 

For I will be encompassed, consumed

As joy and pain

The forming of new life and the breaking of the body,

The union of two into one and the rendering of one into two

Meet and touch within my body and soul.

As the sunflower moves towards the sunlight

So I turn my face to You 

And create.

Waiting

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.

- Psalm 27:1, 14

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.

-Isaiah 9:6

Fulfill now, O Lord, our desires and petitions as may be best for us.

- From a prayer of St. Chrysostom

Today is the first Sunday in Advent. Today Christians begin a season, not of Christmas celebration and festivities, but of contemplation, of preparation, of waiting.

Entering into Advent this year is interesting for me. On the one hand, the impending, unknowable arrival of my own baby has taken over nearly all my energy, time, and thoughts, leaving little for contemplating or preparing for His coming.

But on the other hand, as I've mentioned each year, Jesus' birth and incarnation is all about becoming human - God with us, God made man. There's only mystery there, and flesh. In this story that we celebrate each year the basic component is a young woman, far from home, riding on a donkey and sleeping on the ground while her bones and joints are stretching and separating, while her body is large and uncomfortable, while her bladder and spine are kicked, her internal organs jostled and moved, while she has weeks and weeks of contractions. She is waiting. And while there must have been a spiritual-awe component to her waiting, surely her thoughts and time and energy in these last days were also spent primarily just getting up and down from that donkey, just getting through the day, trying to get some sleep on the hard, cold ground.

How much of her wondering was about the mystery of the Messiah, and how much of it was about the life change facing her? Labor and delivery - where would she be? Who would help her? Would she live through it? Would the child? What would it be like? Could she give as much as would be required of her without breaking?

How much of her pondering was about the role she played, the long awaited and coveted position of bearing the Christ, and how much of it was motherhood itself? The way her life would change, without her permission, without her control, without any way to guess or plan or prepare except in the least important aspects?

And then it began. She labored, she delivered, God was born among us, the Word became flesh and made his dwelling with us. But was the love she felt for him primarily as a created being to her Creator? Or was it the love of an exhausted mother who has just offered up her life to give life to her son?

My mind is not participating much in Advent this season. My toddler son will not have the benefit of beginning family traditions or any number of things I would do if my focus was on awaiting Him. But in a very real sense my body and soul are participating in Advent more than they have ever done. In a way, my son and my family are as well. We are looking ahead with expectation, with hope, with fear, into the unknown. We are surrendering our hopes, our control, ourselves, to what is, to what will be. We are preparing. We are contemplating.

We are waiting.

The ghosts of Thanksgivings past...and present

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm writing this as my husband and son spend two hours making the most gourmet Green Bean Casserole the world has ever known.  I don't think I'm kidding - you should smell our house right now!  So since I have a moment to myself, a chance to sit down, and no cooking responsibilites (something to be thankful for, indeed!) let me walk you down a Thanksgiving memory lane.  See if you can figure out who or what I'm thankful for along the way! 

Thanksgiving 2005

Not pictured: we were in California in the mountains and I was hiding on my mattress in the closet under the stairs trying desperately to avoid smelling all the food and throwing up - pregnant with Asher and having my very first day of "morning" sickness ever.

Thanksgiving 2006

The year I never got to sit down as I was bouncing a baby in the sling the whole time.  Reminding myself to be grateful for the opportunity - I have the rest of my life to eat Thanksgiving dinner and only a few years to care for my babies.

Thanksgiving 2007

Back to California for the Thanksgiving-in-the-cabin-in-the-mountains tradition, but we never made it out of San Diego due to Asher and I both having a stomach flu that lasted for seven full days.  What's up with throwing up at Thanksgiving, anyway?  Or is it California?

Thanksgiving 2008

When we pulled into my Uncle and Aunt's driveway, we found this sign waiting for us.  Could there be a better welcome?  No bouncing babies and no throwing up today - but we did have one rather naughty and very hyper toddler after four hours of food, folks and fun.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Living off the farm...in the suburbs

This year, I finally got around to doing what I've meant to do for years - join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture).

Every week from June through December, we drive about fifteen minutes to our local drop-off site and collect the box of veggies and the box of fruit that is our share of the harvest from that particular week. Everything is locally grown and organic - and yummy.

Being a country girl myself, I love that there is still soil clinging to the onions and beets. Half the contents of my box are things I've never heard of or at least never purchased for myself.  The items I'm familiar with - broccoli, carrots, fruit and berries - taste like I remember them tasting from my childhood, nothing like the cardboard variety I get in supermarkets here.  And the items I'm not familiar with have given me a chance to expand my horizons a bit.  

There are many reasons why I'm glad we've participated in a CSA.  The quality of the food, and the variety; the chance to try new things; the fact that they are organic and local; the fact that we were able to visit the farm where all our fruit and vegetables for six months were grown, and be a small part of the process - anything that links us to the source of our food is a good thing in my opinion; we've eaten a lot more vegetables than we would normally have done, since they are already there and waiting.  And I've used this opportunity to cook more out of this cookbook, which attempts to place my suburban eating habits in line with the ebbs and flows of what nature is producing and experiencing.  

There have been downsides.  I have long since tired of beets and greens, beets and greens, beets and greens.  We don't really know what we're getting ahead of time, have no choice in the matter at all, and we don't always have enough quantity of any one thing to make a full meal out of it, which means that we didn't cut out as much other food as I would have liked.  More than one thing has gone bad in my fridge I'm sorry to say (beets and greens, beets and...).  Either my friend or I has to remember to drive to our pick up spot every week to pick up our box.  And the subscription cost us more money than buying supermarket variety produce would have cost.

We're not renewing for next year, but I doubt this will be our last time as CSA members.  I'd like to see if I can incorporate some of the new things we've learned this year into our lives without the CSA, although getting them local and organic will be more difficult (the farmers' markets near me are pretty far away, and sell more crafts than food, and at high prices).  

I'm going to miss taking a trip to the farm though.  And the yummy berries.  And the fresh broccoli and brussel sprouts.  And the tomatoes!  Hmmm....