Silly Question

As a graduate student in psychology, I've read a few ideas about how gender roles form. Do boys act like boys because they're born that way? Or are they rowdy because we raise them to act rowdy? And how do we explain girls' behavior? Nature or nurture?

It's a complicated question, and way out of my league. (You: *fainting with relief*) Yes, I'll leave that topic for another blogger -- maybe one who sleeps through the night. And who knows which day of the week it is. One who would definitely never do this.

Here, I'll just stick with the true story of our afternoon.

Today at the bookstore, a sweet cashier gave my kidlings each a free pack of silly bands. Royal Princess was quick to put them to use.

Stretchy rubber shapes + Royal Princess = bracelets. Naturally! Or whatever.

(By the way, isn't she dear?)

After I gave Little Man his silly bands, he ran to his room and played quietly for a long while. Upon emerging, he presented this:

In case you're not sure, that's Superboy. Tied up with silly bands. (Next time you think you're having a rough day, remember: You could be Superboy.)

Stretchy rubber shapes + Little Man = ropes to hold a captive.

In closing, I would just like to state for the record that: 1) As a child, I owned an indestructible Tonka truck;
2) on which I sat and made my little sisters pull me down the hall; until 3) they eventually disassembled my indestructible truck. (Looking back, I'm a little suspicious about how that all went down. . .)

At the end of the day, I'm not sure what this all means about the nature of life or gender or even silly bands. But I do know this: Both my kids are creative geniuses.

Raising Einsteins,
Becki~

Waking Up

After junior high, I pretty well stopped being a bandwagon person. For instance:

I don't own an iPhone. I don't wear Uggs. I'm not on a diet. And I don't have a blog. (Never mind.)

But a few weeks ago, I had a bandwagon urge I just could not resist. My friends jumped off a bridge, and strangely enough . . . so did I.

(Figuratively speaking. No worries!)

I bought One Thousand Gifts.

If you don't own a copy, I'm sorry to announce that:       1) I'm not having a giveaway because 2) my extra copy is already borrowed. But I'm not sorry to announce that: 1) You should get a copy anyhow because 2) seriously, it's only $9!

In the spirit of One Thousand Gifts, I thought I'd share a few treasures from our lives this week. Searching for them in the everyday muddle of sickness and clutter has made a difference for us; I pray they bring you a smile, too:

#355 - My spirited Princess, who'd rather take a nap than apologize. Yes, again.

#356 - Coffee with Almond Joy creamer.

#358 - Shiny wood floors, smudged by tiny feet.

#372 - The Royal Princess' tutu.

#373 - The way a church gathers around those who grieve.

Isn't it strange that as our church family prepares for a beloved member's funeral, the list still grows? The comfort, generosity, selflessness, and love that emerge from grief -- those truly are gifts.

Are you looking for your gifts this week?

Searching everywhere,
Becki~

*Thank you, Ann Voskamp, for helping open my eyes.

A Mother's Love

Five years ago, a Little Man changed my life. He used to be really little.

Now, I have to ask him twice a week to stop growing so fast - not to stop, but just to slow down a bit so his old mama can keep up.

He never agrees. But I'm no quitter! I'll still be asking him when he's 87.

Everyone knows mommies show their love, in part, by feeding their kidlets. Yesterday an idea came into my head. Not a nice idea, necessarily. But an idea.

I fed him a Red Hot. (I love him, really I do! That's why it was just one.)*

Since he allowed me to catch his progression on film, I'll share the experience with you. (*applause*)

"This isn't so bad!"

"See, it's a Red Hot."

"Uh oh."

"Help!"

So he promptly bit the Red Hot and ran away from his Mean Ol' Mama. The end.

Bless his heart! (For those who aren't Southerners, that means, "Poor thing!") When I ask him if he wants more tomorrow, I wonder what he'll say? You never know with five-year-olds.

Mother of the Year,
Becki~

*Disclosure: No children were harmed in the making of this post. When I first asked Little Man whether he wanted a Red Hot, he laughingly replied, "No!" Then I popped five into my mouth, and he found his courage. Ahmen.

Five Things

A little trivia question: Who said, "You learn something new every day"?

That's right - my mom. (Hi, Mom!)

I've found this to be true, and never more so than here at home with the kidlings. They teach me, my inexperience teaches me, my own blasted distractedness teaches me something new each day.

I could share a hundred things I've learned today, but since we all have lives to live - how 'bout we just stick with five? (You: *Fainting with relief*)

1) I've come to like cooked onions. The Preacher has always loved onions, while they were on my list of Ten Most Hated Foods (along with beets, turnips, and "raw" marshmallows).

What lesson have we learned here? Your spouse will rub off on you. So before you young single folks marry your BFF, repeat this five times fast: "Every year, I'll become more and more like this person." If that scares you, run away. Amen.

2) A paper towel is not an acceptable replacement for a potholder. But no worries; I survived.

3) Some songs force children to dance. "Bad to the Bone" is one of those songs. (Don't judge; it was in a movie!)

4) I think I have a rare genetic anomaly. It's the only possible explanation for the fact that I cannot resist anything made with cream cheese. Confession: Yesterday I made a fruit tray. With cream cheese dip. Help?

5) My kids have an anomaly that makes it impossible for them to resist fruit. Scenes from the carnage:

Notice how depleted the blueberries closest to Royal Princess appear?And how jealously she's watching her brother gobble grapes?

On Monday I think I'll post a recipe for fruit trays. Stop laughing; I'm serious.

Crying myself to sleep,
Becki~

The Trouble with Waterfalls

The Preacher and I have been married 10-1/2 life-filled, ever-changing years. For our anniversary last summer, we went to a cabin in Canaan Valley, WV; this was the view from our front deck:

(Funny side-note, just to remind you where you are: When we arrived at the cabin, we decided to head to the grocery store before check-in. Our  GPS was as lost as we were, so we asked a worker for directions to Walmart or Target.

She laughed. Hard. For days. Heads-up: When you go to Canaan Valley, don't ask a local about the nearest Walmart.)

On our second day, we visited Blackwater Falls. It was majestic. Incredible. Loud! We stood still while the waters raged.

The trouble with waterfalls is that it's tough to capture them. How do you shrink them into inches? My camera wants to grab each drop of water, but by the time the shutter closes - those drops are surging toward the ocean.

The majesty is in the movement; pixels have a hard time with movement.

But isn't that life? I capture moments, jotting thoughts and stories; and there's something solid in remembrance.

But the nature of life is movement. These jottings, in seasons to come, will bring me back to days past. In that, they're a gift (to myself? my Preacher? my kids?). But I don't stop time here, and I can't freeze life into words.

I guess instead I'll just catch the Moments as I can - in hopes that reading these ramblings will someday bring the roaring waters back to my ears.

Taking a picture anyway,
Becki~

5037 Words: The Pieces of Today

And I think the next line is, "They lived happily ever after, to the end of their days." 

*Photo credit of The Preacher goes to our son, who caught him looking very statuesque. 

Happy with today,

Becki~

Linked up today with Becoming a Strong Woman of God!

Fresh Bread

 This is bread:

 

 And so is this: 

The end.

Just kidding.

Seriously, bread-making is my new hobby. I've been baking bread twice a week for the last month, and I miss it on non-bread-making days. Kneading helps my psyche, and it's not so bad for my arms, either. You should see my triceps! Or biceps? Whichever.

I'm going to write a book about bread-making called The Therapeutic Value of Bread-Making in Everyday Kitchen Settings. Catchy, right?

(Title suggestions?)

For today, I think I'll just focus on the calming effects of bread-eating.

*Pretend I took a picture of warm buttered bread and inserted it here.*

Mmm...

Oh, and here's the recipe, in case you're in need of therapy: Memo's Brown Bread

Joy to the world,

Becki*

I posted this with Beauty and Bedlam: Tasty Tuesday!

And: Time-Warp Wife

Also participating in Feasting in Fellowship Fridays! 

Some of You

Yesterday I was thinking about myself (which you never do, but bear with me just this once, ok?), and I realized something. When I walk through my house, all I see is a multitude of things undone: Need to sweep again. Pick up granola bar wrapper. Hurry and clean up cereal before someone smashes it. Well, scratch that. Vacuum smashed cereal crumbs.

It came to me that something's wrong with that -- all that focus, I mean, directed toward making our home into Ye Olde Museum.

Around here, two little tiny folks chase my heels. Today my husband The Preacher said, "I think it's cool the kids follow you everywhere you go." Hm.

And so The Preacher made me think of someone. Way back in Sunday school, didn't we learn about a guy with a bunch of (kinda clueless) people trailing after him all the time? People who asked him a bunch of questions and then fussed over the answers? People who argued about who was his favorite? People who didn't see the big picture - but chased His heels all the same?

This morning, I told my son it was time to pray; out of the blue, he declared in his Little Preacher voice: "Just like Daddy said at church, 'Some of you been prayin', some of you been workin', some of you been usin' the potty, some of you been playin' with toys. But did you ask the Lord?'"

I'm not sure what made him think of that (and I'm absolutely certain he wasn't quoting his daddy verbatim!) - but it's food for thought, isn't it? I've been prayin' and workin' and . . . y'know, all that. "But did you ask the Lord?"

So I think it's time to shift my focus. There's something amazing hidden under this parenting thing. If it takes a little digging to find it, then I've got my shovel ready. Tomorrow's a new day! *smile* ;)

(And with that, friends, I'll see you Monday! Well, unless something ridiculous happens tomorrow, in which case I'll be forced to keep you posted.) 

--Becki

Shared here: Time-Warp Wife!
And here:

My First Official Recipe Post!

Ok, so cooking blogs are big, aren't they? (You: "I know, right?") So in an effort to keep your interest, I'll share a real-life home-cooked disaster recipe, which I may or may not have cooked up this very evening.

Ingredients:
1.5 lbs. ground beef
1 can tomato sauce
8 oz. water
chili spices (No need for measurements; trust me.)
trash can

1) Brown ground beef; drain. Return to pan.

2) Add tomato sauce to beef, but be too lazy to open entire lid. Instead, allow contents to drizzle out of a small opening. (This is important. Trust me again, friend.)

3) Finish opening empty can's lid. Turn on water and prepare to fill can.

4) See this:

5) Cry. Shout. Pray for mercy.

6) Forget the water. Forget the spices. Throw your hard work into the trash, and serve your family carrots and fish sticks. The end.

Now isn't cooking fun?

Truth-in-blogging Disclosure: No one could make this stuff up; welcome to my kitchen. 

--Becki

Danger: Or The Top 5 Reasons This Blog Took So Long

In case you were wondering, I jotted down a few excuses reasons for my procrastination. :) Enjoy? 

5) The Expert Expectation: When I read blogs about cooking or mothering, I hear the writer's voice in my head. She sounds just like my first grade teacher, an expert who knows lots of things I just don't. And naturally, she's perfect. Her hair and nails are done, and when she takes a picture of her children, they don't have breakfast syrup stuck to their dinnertime chins.

But in the interest of truth-in-blogging, I state for the record: I'm not an expert at anything. My hair is a wreck, and my kids fell asleep with syrupy faces. (I think we like it that way.)

4) Picture Imperfection: Everyone knows the best blogs include beautiful pictures, so-called amateur shots taken with pricey cameras by experienced mamas. Picture-less blogs are so dull!

The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing But the Truth: I'm no photographer. Thus --

It's really a shame, because my kids are so cute. They DESERVE a mother who can take amazing pictures. Hope they don't head off to find a mom who can do them justice. . .

 

3) Non-Thomas-Aquinas-ness: If you're a Christian who blogs, then naturally you'll be a Christian Blogger. You'll type out deep spiritual workings in poetic symbolism, and you'll post hard-hitting YouTube blurbs from favorite preachers. Definitely, for sure and for certain, you'll never explore topics like dirty socks, or your inability to enter your laundry room without crying.

My husband's advice to me? "Just blog about life." Blogs exist by the hundreds for spiritual exercises, and I'm intimidated by the thought of adding to the mix! So here I'll write about life as it comes, in days and months and years; and if "to live is Christ," then I'll pray our journey brings Him joy.

2) Blog-Speak: Bloggers say strange things. Case in point: Have you ever heard someone in real life use the word "Ahem"? Yeah, me neither. Or this: *Smile*? Creepy!

Resolved: No ahems. And I'm never going to use the word "blogosphere" again. Ever. *Smile*

1) Blogger's Block:  I already have it, and this is my first post. What does this mean about me? Will I make it in life? Am I a mess? Do I have What It Takes? Can you hear me now? Hello??

Anyway. For now, my plan is to write, and I do hope you'll read. This is our life; welcome to the adventure!

--Becki