It's a Girl!

I had no idea I was "spammed" by my own husband last month (just shows how often I have been checking my own blog) and that he posted on my account. No wonder I had 18 comments, all from spammers.

Much better news is that we found out Eli and Eva will have a little sister! We caved in and decided to find out the sex, and we couldn't be more thrilled to have two little girls. She looked happy and healthy and I am counting down the 4 more months until she arrives.

I go in spurts with blogging...sometimes I feel like I have something interesting to say, but usually, I prefer to be a compulsive blog reader, rather than a blog typer.

I am off to make the rounds...

Life and Death

I have wanted to write more lately, but my life has kept me away from the computer more than I would like.

We found out last week that my beloved Papa, my maternal grandfather, has cancer and only has weeks to live. He is almost 91 years old, has lived an amazing life (has met two Presidents, fought in all major wars the past century, was the first person in his Italian immigrant family to go to college, had 6 children, has been married to my Nana for 68 years...). I know he will be in heaven soon, but there is such a deep sadness for me that this is how he has to die. I had always hoped he wouldn't have to suffer much, and now he is brokenhearted at the thought of leaving his wife alone. He has been her caretaker for years. At the age of 90, he was still swimming three times a week, lifting my Nana to bathe her, cook for her, and love all those around him.

My Papa was the kind of man who would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it. He is the eternal optimist--even when the doctor told him that he was very very ill with cancer, he has been strong for all of his children who are grieving the fact he will shortly leave them.

I debated and agonized over whether to fly to Virginia to see him before he died. I made the decision not to, but I wrote him a letter trying to express some of my gratitude for his presence in my life. My Mom said that after he read it, he cried and said he wanted it buried with him in his casket. This is more a testament to my grandfather than to the fact that I wrote a great letter.

He will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, and I will go back for the funeral. I know that death is a part of life, but it is so very hard for me to totally comprehend the loss right now.

I also had to break the news to one of my best friends this past week that I am pregnant. What would normally be exciting news to share was very painful. She lives on the East Coast, so I was able to keep it from her for the past 4 months, but I decided I needed to let her know in order to be true to our friendship and yet it was so difficult to tell her because she has struggled for years with infertility and is having an extremely difficult time understanding why her body is failing her and her arms are empty, without a baby to love.

I don't know why life is so unfair sometimes. That is an incredibly trite thing for me to write, but it is my heart right now. There are good people everywhere who are dying, there are couples who would make excellent parents who continue to go childless, there are people who live at the mercy of the weather forecast, and on and on... I do believe God is still active and present in this world, though, and I have seen glimpses of that daily in the midst of the difficulties of the past week.

Feeling my baby move for the first time this week reminded me that God is continually present in the cycle of the world, the miracle of life-making--that birth and growth always happen in the midst of death and suffering.

Lost

I have recently begun to watch the show "Lost". Being a former literature major, I think the mythology, the mystery, and the metaphors (the island is more than the literal land, etc...) make for a very interesting premise, one that I wish I could write a paper about for my former Mythical Allusion professor.

However, my expectations have been and are VERY high. I was disappointed last night, to say the least. In order to explain the hatch and Desmond's presence, the writers think of a "dharma experiment" where a button has to be pushed every 108 minutes?! A frickin' button?! Not that I am a writer for ABC, nor would ever be qualified as one, but come on people, it has to be better than "there was an incident, so a button has to be pushed..." I am sincerely hoping that it will develop into a more interesting story line and that last night was only the start of something great, but with TV, one never really knows.

I am sort of a restaurant snob, and am almost ashamed to admit it, but I did have a very delicious bacon, turkey, lettuce and tomato sandwich at Red Robin today. I also made Dan bring me a sundae from McDonald's (McDonald's for ice cream?!) last night.

Eating is God's best gift to humankind--and we get to do it at least 3 times a day. In my case, it is more like 8 times a day, minus 4 because of the puking.

Stomach Acid and Acne

I would never attempt to write an essay about vomiting, like my brilliant friend Jenell did. However, I will say that I think it is one of the worst ways I can spend the valuable time in my life. I dread it so much that I will try anything to avoid it. Distraction, meditation, sniffing food that smells good to me instead of dwelling on the trash cans that don't...

I have learned the hard way that I must avoid anything citrus at all costs or the acid is too much to bear.

Dan does not understand why I resent him telling people "We are pregnant." He has never vomited for no good reason, nor is he bloated, nor are his breasts the size of Pamela Lee's (this would be a good thing under normal circumstances, but the growing belly sorta erases all that).

To make matters worse, I do believe I have approximately 136 zits on my face. I actually went in last week to a skin care clinic and a woman (bless her heart) spent 1 1/2 hours "extracting" my face. Who knew I needed "Acne Surgery"? Now, had I known I could have been a professional zit popper, I might have altered my life plans a bit.

Things I am looking forward to this week:

Bedtime, Bedtime, Bedtime, watching "Lost", eating some pork tenderloin Asian noodle dish I made in the crockpot, and did I mention going to bed?

Be brief...

We have been attending a church we actually like quite a bit--the best thing about it is the pastor, a genuine, kind-hearted man who is engaging and incredibly down to earth. The worst part is the music. Where are the SP musicians when you need them? It was so bad that today I was actually glad we were late so we missed some of it. Sigh. Note to singers: Please don't ever try to sing Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up" in church.

Anyway, today, Steve (the pastor) had a time of "open mic" sharing before he spoke telling us that anyone who wanted to share was welcome to stand up and do so. He then instructed us on the "Five B's" of sharing in church: Be Brief, Brother, Be Brief.

I found this hilarious only because I have sat through too many open mic sessions in some of my past churches where I got to hear about sick old Aunt Betty and the cat and the old job from 10 years ago and so on... Not that I am insensitive or uncaring, but there is something to be said for conciseness when telling about God's goodness in the world and in our lives. That is what blogging is for--to ramble on about whatever the heck it is one wants to.

Tonight, as I am about to crawl into bed, tired and sick, I am thankful for the small things this week that have brought me great joy.

A couple from our church is starting a Friday night group--starting at 6, including dinner, AND they are from Minnesota! This is suspiciously like the last group which we were in, one that we dearly miss and have longed to re-create here in Denver. God answers prayers with an "okay", even if they are over a year later.

I am also thankful for my new king sized bed. Not so much for my own sake, but to avoid being hit and pushed and kicked, Dan has given in to the demand of my growing body and my need for space when I sleep. Sure, a bed can be used for amorous activities and for snuggling, but come on people, when it is time to sleep, Lord knows I don't need no elbow in my face. If I had any advice to newly married couples, it would be to get a king sized bed. No one needs to smell morning breath because of close sleeping proximity. Now, Dan won't have to smell mine because I don't have to say, "Move over!" at all hours of the night.

I am thankful for Eli becoming a yellow stripe belt in tae kwon do this week. Who knew he could break a wooden board with his hand?

I will have to follow up all this damn thankfulness with some complaining in tomorrow's blog. I warn you--it will include reports of acne and vomiting.

I really have no title

Besides being on the quest for the perfect toothpaste (thank you so much for all the insightful comments here), I have been consumed by the suffering that is on every network 24/7 and has been on and off for as long as I can remember.

Today at church, a couple stood up and asked for prayer as they leave to live in Uganda for 3 years and help the people in whatever ways they can. There is genocide, child sex slavery, poverty, AIDS, etc...and they are going to live among the people and work with a "peacemaking" ministry. As I sat there, I thought about how great that was they were being so sacrificial and to be honest, how there was no way in hell I would ever go to Uganda. Then, the "sermon" was about the catastrophes in the world and how as Christians we are called to social justice and involvement and sadness. The stories were told of many Christians who offer humanitarian relief with the gospel as incentive (we will give you food if you listen to the stories of Jesus, etc...) and I was thankful this perspective was discussed and criticized.

And, yet, I sat there feeling helpless and ridiculous. Often, the biggest problem in my day is that I put one dark garment in with a bunch of whites and now we all have blue underwear. Or, my forehead pimples are erupting again and there is no end in sight. Laundry! Acne! The horrors!

The people in the Middle East, the mass genocide (s) in Africa, poverty, sickness, hunger, the tsunami (have we already forgotten that one?), Katrina, and on and on. I feel too overwhelmed to help and yet I want to do something more than tear off a $5 donation card at my local Walgreens when I run in to purchase diapers and all the other things I can afford and need for my family.

I don't want to feel guilty for having a beautiful home, a beautiful family, a husband who provides and offers me the ability to be a mother who is home more than she is not, and yet it is hard not to have a pang of that as my life feels so benign and miniscule in the larger picture of the world.

A large piece of the picture for me is that I feel I already have suffered, so "can't I just enjoy my life already?" That is a ridiculous, arrogant, and presumptuous thing for me to even write, but it is part of the honesty I am trying to embrace as I try to figure out where my suffering fits into my "story".

I DO have beautiful things. I have a diamond ring that is worth more than most people's homes (around the world, people, not in America). I DID have a nice minivan (Ha!) until I forgot how to drive and dented and scraped up the side on a railing at the zoo. I buy organic meat, pay a lot of money to get my hair done, and eat out way more than I should. I never have to wonder where my next meal will come from or if disease or dehydration will claim the life of my children. I am blessed, indeed.

And, yet, there is part of me that feels I have suffered in ways that are so similar to those around the world that I need to step out of my coccoon and use my resources for more than I do. My best friend was murdered by her mother, a family member died of AIDS, I was emancipated by my parents and pregnant at 17 and on welfare, and those are just to name a few.

It is these stories that link me to people who I will never know. I could be an African woman, a person in New Orleans too poor to evacuate, a pregnant teenager anywhere who feels alone in the world and is hurting.

But I am not that person. I have stuffed my suffering deep into pockets of shame and disassociation and in doing so, I have missed many opportunities to let God offer others hope, allow me to heal, and to open up pieces of a heart that long to be known.

Very Important Questions

1) Does anyone (or the 3 people who read this blog) have any great toothpaste recommendations? I am desperate, people. I feel like most toothpastes are minty and fresh initially and then leave this horrible aftertaste that makes me gag.

2) Why are there SPAM comments on blogger? I received a comment yesterday from "phentermine", which I am certain is some kind of drug. Any comments are welcome, but I have to draw the limit somewhere.

All I got is 2.

On another note, I just ate a cinnamon raisin english muffin, a blueberry smoothie, and a bunch of kalamata olives with cheese dip and chips for breakfast. Mmmmm.