Remember my last post? About how it was so hard to find joy at 4am?
Not 24 hours after I posted that, I found it. At 4 am. As I slept blissfully because - shock of all shocks - SO WAS AIDAN.
That's right. My little boy slept through the night last night, and I could not be prouder to be proven wrong about his sleeping habits.
We fed him a a big bottle at 10:15pm, got him all fed, burped, changed, and wrapped up in his swaddler (aka the Baby Strait Jacket), and put him down at 11pm. His eyelids were barely open, and he was ready for bed. 3:30 came along, I hear him fuss a little bit over the monitor, so I go in to pop his binky back in his mouth. It's been our routine, this binky-popping in the middle of the night. He'd fuss, I'd put the binky back in, then 15 minutes later, he'd fuss again, I'd get out of bed... you get the picture. Sort of like hitting the snooze button on my son. It's my way of trying to delay a feeding I don't really want to do, and lately, he'd only been taking 1 or 2 ounces anyway.
So, I popped the binky back in. Went back to bed. Next thing I know, Jason's getting up, and it's 5:30. The monitor is silent, but I'm too groggy to make a big deal about it. Maybe Jason fed him, I thought groggily. Back to sleep.
I wake up, no alarm, no sound over the monitor, at 7:15am. I had about 3 seconds of feeling well-rested before the panic set in: why didn't he wake up for his bottle? I threw myself out of bed, horror scenes flying through my brain, and ran into his nursery. And there he was, still swaddled, binky firmly planted between his lips, sleeping peacefully.
Friends, it was the parting of the clouds, the light shining from heaven, the angels singing sweet melodies. Oh, glorious moment that I realized my son slept through the night! All morning, I kept squeezing him, hugging him, saying "Good boy!", and Aidan gave me these withering looks like I was mentally unbalanced.
That's okay. I'm just grateful Aidan has joined his parents in a long family line of champion sleepers. Good boy!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
finding joy...
...is a little hard to do at 4 in the morning, after just a few hours sleep. I think I dropped it somewhere in the dark, along with Aidan's binky.
Forgive me if I take tacit, bleary-eyed acceptance instead. Whoever coined the phrase "sleeping like a baby" never met my talkative, grunting, squirmy worm. Love him, but sheesh...
Forgive me if I take tacit, bleary-eyed acceptance instead. Whoever coined the phrase "sleeping like a baby" never met my talkative, grunting, squirmy worm. Love him, but sheesh...
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
loved and forgiven
Shortly before I left work to go on maternity leave, I cared for a patient who had been the victim of a horrible accident. He was about my age, and one night, in a not-so-safe part of town, another person decided to run over my patient - repeatedly - with his car. It left him with brain injuries and swelling so severe that even some of our most calloused, experienced staff were open-mouthed at the CT scans of his head. He actually came into the hospital somewhat conscious and alert, nodding his head to questions, but within the night, the bleeding and swelling in his brain turned him completely unresponsive, and he never again acknowledged anyone's presence, not even his mother's.
He came to our unit a very, very broken man. A part of his skull needed to be removed because of the massive swelling, and the left side of his head bulged under the skin. We cared for him, treated his fevers, his erratic heart rate, bathed him, turned him so that he wouldn't get bedsores, fed him through a tube, and monitored his oxygen levels as a respirator kept his lungs going. The chances of recovery were nil. Doctors broke the news to his mother, first gently, then bluntly, as she refused to believe her son was really gone even though his heart was still beating. A hospital ethics committee wanted to end life support, and his mother adamantly refused. He was still there when I left for maternity leave, and the last news I'd heard was that he was moved to a nursing home. I thought perhaps he'd made some miraculous improvement, though I knew the quality of life after such an accident was bound to be poor.
Today, I read that he passed away this past Wednesday. He was 34 years old.
I'd seen a lot of patients like him in the year I worked in my burn/trauma unit. Their injuries are severe, their prognoses grim, but they start to blur together after a while. Maybe it's the brain's way of protecting you from the reality of so many hurt people, I don't know. But I don't remember all of them. You give the best nursing care you are capable of, and then you try to leave their stories and faces at the hospital and go home to be with your family.
This patient, however, is one I will never forget.
He was a career criminal, purportedly one of the biggest drug dealers in my city. He had a rap sheet a mile long, I was told - possession of narcotics, robbery, assault, etc. He was outside a nightclub when someone, clearly set to kill him, ran over him repeatedly with his car. Police had to use their own vehicles to barricade this guy from continuing to run my patient over, and the scene was reportedly so "unstable" (dangerous, I presume) that it took paramedics a full hour just to reach my patient. When news of his injuries broke and the newspaper published the story online, comments came flying in from all over, some mentioning the bravery of the officer who risked his own life to stop the other guy's car, but most saying that our city and the world in general would be better places because this guy was critically injured, off the streets, and would hopefully die. They used words like "scum" and "trash" and a few others that are too offensive for me to mention. People seemed pretty content that justice had been served to this guy, who, as one person wrote online, "got what was coming to him."
What people didn't see, or at least care to remember, was that my patient, however heinous the crimes he committed, was someone's son and father.
His room was full of bright posters and funny little crayon drawings from his son. A picture of a bright-faced little boy in a baseball uniform hung under the dry-erase board. Get-well cards and balloons were stashed in a corner of his room to make way for all the medical equipment to keep his body alive.
His mother came to visit her son every single day. She was a kind lady, strong and fairly stoic about the whole situation, given the gravity of her son's condition, though her eyes told me she was feeling every bit of pain that comes with seeing your son lying gravely ill in a hospital. She worked at the hospital in a different unit, and when she was at his side, she always helped the staff to care for him. She spoke to him, talked to him about his son, told him how much she loved him, asked him to move something - anything - or at least turn his glassy-eyed, blank gaze to her in recognition, which he never did.
This past weekend, she had to bury her son. No parent should ever have to go through such hell, burying their child. And though he may have been what many would call a bad person, a criminal, a detriment to society, he was still, after all, her son. Loved. Forgiven.
And I am reminded again and again, when I think of him, that no matter what I do or what other people think of me, or how many times I screw up, even when I screw up in huge, messy ways, that I, too, am always loved. Forgiven. Not just by my very awesome parents, but even more by my Papa in heaven. He comes to visit me every day, too, waiting for me to look His way and talk to Him.
He came to our unit a very, very broken man. A part of his skull needed to be removed because of the massive swelling, and the left side of his head bulged under the skin. We cared for him, treated his fevers, his erratic heart rate, bathed him, turned him so that he wouldn't get bedsores, fed him through a tube, and monitored his oxygen levels as a respirator kept his lungs going. The chances of recovery were nil. Doctors broke the news to his mother, first gently, then bluntly, as she refused to believe her son was really gone even though his heart was still beating. A hospital ethics committee wanted to end life support, and his mother adamantly refused. He was still there when I left for maternity leave, and the last news I'd heard was that he was moved to a nursing home. I thought perhaps he'd made some miraculous improvement, though I knew the quality of life after such an accident was bound to be poor.
Today, I read that he passed away this past Wednesday. He was 34 years old.
I'd seen a lot of patients like him in the year I worked in my burn/trauma unit. Their injuries are severe, their prognoses grim, but they start to blur together after a while. Maybe it's the brain's way of protecting you from the reality of so many hurt people, I don't know. But I don't remember all of them. You give the best nursing care you are capable of, and then you try to leave their stories and faces at the hospital and go home to be with your family.
This patient, however, is one I will never forget.
He was a career criminal, purportedly one of the biggest drug dealers in my city. He had a rap sheet a mile long, I was told - possession of narcotics, robbery, assault, etc. He was outside a nightclub when someone, clearly set to kill him, ran over him repeatedly with his car. Police had to use their own vehicles to barricade this guy from continuing to run my patient over, and the scene was reportedly so "unstable" (dangerous, I presume) that it took paramedics a full hour just to reach my patient. When news of his injuries broke and the newspaper published the story online, comments came flying in from all over, some mentioning the bravery of the officer who risked his own life to stop the other guy's car, but most saying that our city and the world in general would be better places because this guy was critically injured, off the streets, and would hopefully die. They used words like "scum" and "trash" and a few others that are too offensive for me to mention. People seemed pretty content that justice had been served to this guy, who, as one person wrote online, "got what was coming to him."
What people didn't see, or at least care to remember, was that my patient, however heinous the crimes he committed, was someone's son and father.
His room was full of bright posters and funny little crayon drawings from his son. A picture of a bright-faced little boy in a baseball uniform hung under the dry-erase board. Get-well cards and balloons were stashed in a corner of his room to make way for all the medical equipment to keep his body alive.
His mother came to visit her son every single day. She was a kind lady, strong and fairly stoic about the whole situation, given the gravity of her son's condition, though her eyes told me she was feeling every bit of pain that comes with seeing your son lying gravely ill in a hospital. She worked at the hospital in a different unit, and when she was at his side, she always helped the staff to care for him. She spoke to him, talked to him about his son, told him how much she loved him, asked him to move something - anything - or at least turn his glassy-eyed, blank gaze to her in recognition, which he never did.
This past weekend, she had to bury her son. No parent should ever have to go through such hell, burying their child. And though he may have been what many would call a bad person, a criminal, a detriment to society, he was still, after all, her son. Loved. Forgiven.
And I am reminded again and again, when I think of him, that no matter what I do or what other people think of me, or how many times I screw up, even when I screw up in huge, messy ways, that I, too, am always loved. Forgiven. Not just by my very awesome parents, but even more by my Papa in heaven. He comes to visit me every day, too, waiting for me to look His way and talk to Him.
Monday, October 6, 2008
falling in love... again
Welcome to the world, Kathryn Grace Vercillo! She's the beautiful new daughter of my awesome cousin Jen - born October 4, weighing in at 6 lbs, 12 oz, and 19 inches long.
Jason, Aidan, and I are sending buckets of love out to the proud parents and sweet-pea Kathryn - don't they look awesome?
(And she had a C-section, too. It should be criminal to look that good after major abdominal surgery.)
We love you!
Jason, Aidan, and I are sending buckets of love out to the proud parents and sweet-pea Kathryn - don't they look awesome?
(And she had a C-section, too. It should be criminal to look that good after major abdominal surgery.)
We love you!
fasting
The television is always on. It is the background noise during my days at home with Aidan. I watch enough ER reruns that I think Aidan's first words will be "get me 10 cc's of lidocaine, stat!" When Jason gets home, we watch Friends. We feed Aidan to the sounds of Charles Gibson and the nightly news. We eat dinner in front of the TV, or at the dinner table, looking over the couch to the TV (with the volume turned louder to compensate for our distance). We watch the primetime line-up for the night, or pop in a DVD. We almost always watch Family Guy at ten. And then the same pattern happens again the next day. Lather, rinse, repeat.
One of my friends only recently acquired a television set because she married a guy who owned one. Before then, she read books. Talked to friends. Had quiet time. Ate dinner and had meaningful conversation with her dinner guests. I imagine she still does that now, as she is still not a TV watcher. It really all made sense to me, but I just thought I liked seeing Monica, Chandler, Joey, Rachel, Phoebe, and Ross too much to give mine up.
And then on our date this past Friday, it just sort of hit me: I wanted to break away from the TV. It was probably inspired during date night, because when we are on date night, in a restaurant without TVs, sitting in the back of the truck at the beach, or even in the jumble of commotion at Disney, we have the best conversations. It's one of those perks when you marry your best friend, those excellent chats. But we don't have them as much at home, mostly because I think we're both more interested to see who gets kicked off The Biggest Loser than to really go into deep conversation.
Plus, I'm sitting here in amazement at how fast Aidan is growing up - two months old already! - and since I'm facing the return to work in just a few weeks, I don't want any moment with him to be wasted. I decided he deserved our full attention when we're with him, instead of dividing it between him and, say, Lennie Briscoe, Peter Griffin, or Dwight Schrute.
So this week, we're fasting. The TV is being turned off. No TV, no movies, nothing. And I predict one of two scenarios will happen: we will either reconnect with each other in fabulous new ways, deepen our walk of faith, and discover just how little we need that box... OR we will go certifiably insane and just stare at each other, drooling and glassy-eyed until the following Monday when we can end our fast.
Either way, it should be interesting.
So if you see me this week, and I'm just a little off: voice trailing off mid-sentence, foaming at the mouth, or else babbling incessantly about how I think saving the cheerleader will save the world, well... I guess just drive me to the nearest Best Buy and park me in front of the largest HD TV you can find there. Take away my credit card first, of course.
One of my friends only recently acquired a television set because she married a guy who owned one. Before then, she read books. Talked to friends. Had quiet time. Ate dinner and had meaningful conversation with her dinner guests. I imagine she still does that now, as she is still not a TV watcher. It really all made sense to me, but I just thought I liked seeing Monica, Chandler, Joey, Rachel, Phoebe, and Ross too much to give mine up.
And then on our date this past Friday, it just sort of hit me: I wanted to break away from the TV. It was probably inspired during date night, because when we are on date night, in a restaurant without TVs, sitting in the back of the truck at the beach, or even in the jumble of commotion at Disney, we have the best conversations. It's one of those perks when you marry your best friend, those excellent chats. But we don't have them as much at home, mostly because I think we're both more interested to see who gets kicked off The Biggest Loser than to really go into deep conversation.
Plus, I'm sitting here in amazement at how fast Aidan is growing up - two months old already! - and since I'm facing the return to work in just a few weeks, I don't want any moment with him to be wasted. I decided he deserved our full attention when we're with him, instead of dividing it between him and, say, Lennie Briscoe, Peter Griffin, or Dwight Schrute.
So this week, we're fasting. The TV is being turned off. No TV, no movies, nothing. And I predict one of two scenarios will happen: we will either reconnect with each other in fabulous new ways, deepen our walk of faith, and discover just how little we need that box... OR we will go certifiably insane and just stare at each other, drooling and glassy-eyed until the following Monday when we can end our fast.
Either way, it should be interesting.
So if you see me this week, and I'm just a little off: voice trailing off mid-sentence, foaming at the mouth, or else babbling incessantly about how I think saving the cheerleader will save the world, well... I guess just drive me to the nearest Best Buy and park me in front of the largest HD TV you can find there. Take away my credit card first, of course.
Friday, October 3, 2008
feel-good friday
A few of the reasons I'm smiling:
Aidan just flashed me a grin from his crib this morning. I am forever ruined!
Tonight is date night - I've been looking forward to it all week. It's the night that makes the rest of the week's trials so, so worth it. Plus, my husband is hawwwwt. And we have free babysitting, in the form of my awesome brother Don. Score!
Aforementioned Hawwwwt Husband took my middle-of-the-night feeding shift with Aidan last night instead of waking me up so that I could sleep. His heart is just like that, people. Huge and giving, even when he's tired himself.
I love the numbers of the sizes of clothes I can fit into.
My new awesome boss is totally working with me and my schedule so that I can make sure Aidan has someone taking care of him when I go back to work, and they're all FREE. Free childcare for all but one day of the week. That's no small blessing.
Before my date night tonight, I get to go on a little roadtrip (45 minutes) and meet up with one of my dearest friends for lunch, the one who calls me Anne Girl. I so miss her company, so today is a special treat.
Aidan just flashed me a grin from his crib this morning. I am forever ruined!
Tonight is date night - I've been looking forward to it all week. It's the night that makes the rest of the week's trials so, so worth it. Plus, my husband is hawwwwt. And we have free babysitting, in the form of my awesome brother Don. Score!
Aforementioned Hawwwwt Husband took my middle-of-the-night feeding shift with Aidan last night instead of waking me up so that I could sleep. His heart is just like that, people. Huge and giving, even when he's tired himself.
I love the numbers of the sizes of clothes I can fit into.
My new awesome boss is totally working with me and my schedule so that I can make sure Aidan has someone taking care of him when I go back to work, and they're all FREE. Free childcare for all but one day of the week. That's no small blessing.
Before my date night tonight, I get to go on a little roadtrip (45 minutes) and meet up with one of my dearest friends for lunch, the one who calls me Anne Girl. I so miss her company, so today is a special treat.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
finding joy
It's been a long time since I posted, hasn't it? I'm kind of amused at how little I've been writing and yet how great my husband is about posting on his blog - when I first started this blog, back in the day, I suggested to Jason that he might like to do the same. He didn't really warm up to the idea at first, but then he started posting a little in his own space... and now, well... I have some catching up to do!
Anyway, it's been a long time, but not because the inner wheels of my head haven't been busily turning all this time. I've been looking inside myself a lot lately. A lot of what I have found is stuff that I don't feel ready to post publicly. Some of it, I barely understand myself and find it hard to put into words. Soul searching is hard work, yo.
A friend of mine recently took me out to lunch - it was delicious and we had a good time, but it was a lunch with a purpose. You can sense when someone has a message to give you. And she said to me, "You know, Anne, for as long as I've known you, over these past 5-6 years, you've always wanted something. First you were sad because you didn't have a boyfriend, and you wanted a boyfriend. Then someone came along and you were sad because he didn't like you as much as you liked him. Then you met your husband to be and just wanted to get married, and you were sad because you wondered if he would ever propose. Then you got married, and you were wanting to have a baby, and sad that you didn't have one. Then, you wanted to have a house and were sad living in your apartment. And you have all these things now, and I just wanted to say to you: be happy. Don't keep "waiting" for the next thing. Whatever it is you have to do to be happy, do it. You've gotten everything you've wanted."
I have to admit that her words stung a little. Okay, a lot. But she's a friend because I know she won't sugar-coat anything, and she means what she says. Still, it's hard to realize that one of the lasting impressions you've left with people, especially those who are close to you, is one of sadness and longing and waiting for the next thing to start in your life. It made me, well... sad. It made me feel a little defensive inside, and I wanted to tell her that she had no idea what I'd been through, what I'm still trying to reconcile in my heart. I wanted to have a lunch where everything was surface-y and light-hearted and without agenda. Deep inside, though, I knew she spoke truth. This is not the legacy I wish to have. Sadness is not the impression I want to leave with people, especially when I am trying to impart just how awesome Jesus is to those who don't know. How much are you going to want the life of a Christian who is perpetually sad, longing, discontent? I didn't think so. It all made me sad to hear.
It also made me determined to go out there and find the joy.
The good news is, it's not that hard to find. God sprinkles it all over my life, most notably and recently in the form of the most terrific man in the world along with the most terrific little man in the world. When I choose to see the joy, I am delighted. Sometimes it's in little things, like getting the unexpected green light (score!) or a apologetic cashier giving you something free you expected to pay for (in this case, pink reusable grocery bags). Sometimes it's in the bigger things, like realizing just how freaking blessed I am to have my best friend as my husband, or that I will probably never be out of work in my career path, or how awesome it is to be a part of a dynamic, loving, life-changing community. And sometimes it's in all the other things: a morning run you dragged yourself out of bed for that connected you spiritually, your infant son flashing his first toothless grin at you, being the world's worst stinkin' bowler and laughing your head off over it, or finding out that Pei Wei is actually owned by PF Chang's. (Dude. I so didn't know. I am SO THERE.)
I know this probably sounds like the worst sugary get-happy drivel, but it's been a tiny shift in my thinking that has made such a huge difference. I haven't discovered some massive secret of the universe. I still have crappy moments. Seeing joy and being joyful is far from an automatic response for me, and sometimes I have to work pretty hard at it. I still think negatively and probably project that quite well to the world at times. I still have a lot of inner stuff I have to work through, scars and open wounds that surprise me with their depth and rawness despite their age, and thankfully, I've been blessed lately with the right people who can do that with me. But if I can find the joy in each day, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, it keeps my perspective in the right field, and the bonus is that I'm a lot more fun to be around. You can find joy in spite of those wounds, even if they are deep and painful.
So I ask you, for any of you still faithful enough to check if I post anymore: what are you putting out there to the world? Where do you find the joy?
And a belated thank you to a friend who lovingly shook me awake and told me to get over it already and go find some joy.
Anyway, it's been a long time, but not because the inner wheels of my head haven't been busily turning all this time. I've been looking inside myself a lot lately. A lot of what I have found is stuff that I don't feel ready to post publicly. Some of it, I barely understand myself and find it hard to put into words. Soul searching is hard work, yo.
A friend of mine recently took me out to lunch - it was delicious and we had a good time, but it was a lunch with a purpose. You can sense when someone has a message to give you. And she said to me, "You know, Anne, for as long as I've known you, over these past 5-6 years, you've always wanted something. First you were sad because you didn't have a boyfriend, and you wanted a boyfriend. Then someone came along and you were sad because he didn't like you as much as you liked him. Then you met your husband to be and just wanted to get married, and you were sad because you wondered if he would ever propose. Then you got married, and you were wanting to have a baby, and sad that you didn't have one. Then, you wanted to have a house and were sad living in your apartment. And you have all these things now, and I just wanted to say to you: be happy. Don't keep "waiting" for the next thing. Whatever it is you have to do to be happy, do it. You've gotten everything you've wanted."
I have to admit that her words stung a little. Okay, a lot. But she's a friend because I know she won't sugar-coat anything, and she means what she says. Still, it's hard to realize that one of the lasting impressions you've left with people, especially those who are close to you, is one of sadness and longing and waiting for the next thing to start in your life. It made me, well... sad. It made me feel a little defensive inside, and I wanted to tell her that she had no idea what I'd been through, what I'm still trying to reconcile in my heart. I wanted to have a lunch where everything was surface-y and light-hearted and without agenda. Deep inside, though, I knew she spoke truth. This is not the legacy I wish to have. Sadness is not the impression I want to leave with people, especially when I am trying to impart just how awesome Jesus is to those who don't know. How much are you going to want the life of a Christian who is perpetually sad, longing, discontent? I didn't think so. It all made me sad to hear.
It also made me determined to go out there and find the joy.
The good news is, it's not that hard to find. God sprinkles it all over my life, most notably and recently in the form of the most terrific man in the world along with the most terrific little man in the world. When I choose to see the joy, I am delighted. Sometimes it's in little things, like getting the unexpected green light (score!) or a apologetic cashier giving you something free you expected to pay for (in this case, pink reusable grocery bags). Sometimes it's in the bigger things, like realizing just how freaking blessed I am to have my best friend as my husband, or that I will probably never be out of work in my career path, or how awesome it is to be a part of a dynamic, loving, life-changing community. And sometimes it's in all the other things: a morning run you dragged yourself out of bed for that connected you spiritually, your infant son flashing his first toothless grin at you, being the world's worst stinkin' bowler and laughing your head off over it, or finding out that Pei Wei is actually owned by PF Chang's. (Dude. I so didn't know. I am SO THERE.)
I know this probably sounds like the worst sugary get-happy drivel, but it's been a tiny shift in my thinking that has made such a huge difference. I haven't discovered some massive secret of the universe. I still have crappy moments. Seeing joy and being joyful is far from an automatic response for me, and sometimes I have to work pretty hard at it. I still think negatively and probably project that quite well to the world at times. I still have a lot of inner stuff I have to work through, scars and open wounds that surprise me with their depth and rawness despite their age, and thankfully, I've been blessed lately with the right people who can do that with me. But if I can find the joy in each day, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, it keeps my perspective in the right field, and the bonus is that I'm a lot more fun to be around. You can find joy in spite of those wounds, even if they are deep and painful.
So I ask you, for any of you still faithful enough to check if I post anymore: what are you putting out there to the world? Where do you find the joy?
And a belated thank you to a friend who lovingly shook me awake and told me to get over it already and go find some joy.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
skinny pants: a parable
1 And in the twelfth month of the year of our lord two thousand and six, there was a long journey to a distant land named Washington, District of Columbia.
2 Yea, it was a blessed journey, and husband and wife made merry with their kinfolk, and there was much celebration and eating of rich foods. Blessed was their time with their kinfolk.
3 And it came to pass that another journey was planned for the husband and wife, for the wife looked upon the contents of her wardrobe and decreed that nay, her clothes fit her no more.
4 And so it was that the husband took his wife to a center of great retail, to the large marketplace in the great city.
5 The husband said to his wife, "Woman, you have great endurance, and you shall be rewarded for your faithful fitness crusade and weight sacrifice. Verily, I say unto thee, thy reward shall be great."
6 And the wife rejoiced greatly, and saw the retail laid out before her eyes, and declared that it was good and fit for purchase.
7 And there was much handling of fine clothery, and lo, the woman discovered a pair of worthy pants the color of young doves, and she purchased them.
8 And behold, the pants were pleasing to the eye and very small in size, and the price was low, and the woman looked upon herself in the room of dressing, and she declared that it was good.
9 Many months passed, and the woman wore her dove-colored pants, and there was great joy, yea, for the woman continued to sacrifice her weight and ran with joy.
10 Now there was in the land many temples of great feasting, and the faithful woman was soon tempted and trialed, and she saw the great gluttony of those around her, and she rebuked those who offered such empty riches.
11 But there was in the woman a hunger, yea, a hunger so great that no man could stop its force, and the woman found herself feasting among the gluttons and taking great pleasure.
12 But with her gluttonous sin came a mighty wrath, for behold, it is said that no man shall eat more than his allotted share. The mighty wrath came upon the woman, and the sacrifice of weight ceaseth, and her body expanded and grew corpulent.
13 And there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and behold, the woman did rend her garments, for the pants of dove color no longer fit, and a muffin top was evident to all in the land. And the woman was covered with a great sadness, and she covered herself in sackcloth from Target, and she ran no more.
14 And it came to pass that in the twelfth month in the year of our Lord two thousand and seven, the angel of obstetrics descended upon her. The woman was very afraid and feared the stirrups, but the angel said, "Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy."
15 "For you will bear a child in the ninth month; verily, I say unto you, a child will be born unto you, unto thee he shall be birthed, and you shall call him blessed."
16 "How can this be?" crieth the woman. "My husband and I have not known each other for many months, and my body is afflicted, yes, greatly afflicted by the great cellulite."
17 And the angel replied, "Woman, do not be afraid, and consume thy multivitamin once daily, and avoideth alcohol and sushi."
18 And the woman removed her paper gown, and she pondered all these things in her heart.
19 And it came to pass that the woman bore a son, whom she named Aidan, and there was much rejoicing and merriment. And she wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and lo, he crapped on the swaddling, and there was a great wailing.
20 But the woman was very happy, for her heart overfloweth with love, but she was troubled, too, for her ankles and hips overfloweth with water retention.
21 And the woman was filled with great fear and trembling, and she once again rent her garments and gnashed her teeth, for it appeared that even the fat pants would fit no more.
22 But it came to be that a great blessing was bestowed upon the woman as she tended to her son, for the affliction of her spare tire was miraculously removed, and she was healed, even lighter than before she became with child.
23 And the angel of fashion visited the woman, and behold, she was no longer afraid, but very calm from the Valium, and the angel spoke unto her:
24 "Woman, I say to thee, remove thy shapeless maternity wear! Banish thy fat garments, and put on your skinny gray pants."
25 And the woman was filled with doubt, but when she saw the angel's bling and smart clothing ensemble, lo, she was filled with belief, and she fell to her knees in praise of the Lord.
26 And so it came to pass, on the 19th day of the ninth month of the year of our Lord two thousand and eight, the woman wore her skinny dove-colored pants. The woman leapt and danced and ran 2 miles in thanksgiving.
27 And there was much merriment and celebration, and the finest beers were brought to the celebration, and lo, Irish car bombs and imported lagers were raised in celebration.
28 The celebration lasted late into the night; the flute and the lyre were filled with song, and all feasted until they had their fill and grew sleepy.
29 And the morning came, and the sun rose high, yea, the sun was hot and bright, and the woman found that her skinny gray pants still fit.
30 For I say unto thee, the power of the Lord is great, and miracles are still performed to this day.
31 Verily, I say unto thee, go out and tell this story to your peoples, and spread the Good News to all nations.
32 Amen.
2 Yea, it was a blessed journey, and husband and wife made merry with their kinfolk, and there was much celebration and eating of rich foods. Blessed was their time with their kinfolk.
3 And it came to pass that another journey was planned for the husband and wife, for the wife looked upon the contents of her wardrobe and decreed that nay, her clothes fit her no more.
4 And so it was that the husband took his wife to a center of great retail, to the large marketplace in the great city.
5 The husband said to his wife, "Woman, you have great endurance, and you shall be rewarded for your faithful fitness crusade and weight sacrifice. Verily, I say unto thee, thy reward shall be great."
6 And the wife rejoiced greatly, and saw the retail laid out before her eyes, and declared that it was good and fit for purchase.
7 And there was much handling of fine clothery, and lo, the woman discovered a pair of worthy pants the color of young doves, and she purchased them.
8 And behold, the pants were pleasing to the eye and very small in size, and the price was low, and the woman looked upon herself in the room of dressing, and she declared that it was good.
9 Many months passed, and the woman wore her dove-colored pants, and there was great joy, yea, for the woman continued to sacrifice her weight and ran with joy.
10 Now there was in the land many temples of great feasting, and the faithful woman was soon tempted and trialed, and she saw the great gluttony of those around her, and she rebuked those who offered such empty riches.
11 But there was in the woman a hunger, yea, a hunger so great that no man could stop its force, and the woman found herself feasting among the gluttons and taking great pleasure.
12 But with her gluttonous sin came a mighty wrath, for behold, it is said that no man shall eat more than his allotted share. The mighty wrath came upon the woman, and the sacrifice of weight ceaseth, and her body expanded and grew corpulent.
13 And there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and behold, the woman did rend her garments, for the pants of dove color no longer fit, and a muffin top was evident to all in the land. And the woman was covered with a great sadness, and she covered herself in sackcloth from Target, and she ran no more.
14 And it came to pass that in the twelfth month in the year of our Lord two thousand and seven, the angel of obstetrics descended upon her. The woman was very afraid and feared the stirrups, but the angel said, "Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy."
15 "For you will bear a child in the ninth month; verily, I say unto you, a child will be born unto you, unto thee he shall be birthed, and you shall call him blessed."
16 "How can this be?" crieth the woman. "My husband and I have not known each other for many months, and my body is afflicted, yes, greatly afflicted by the great cellulite."
17 And the angel replied, "Woman, do not be afraid, and consume thy multivitamin once daily, and avoideth alcohol and sushi."
18 And the woman removed her paper gown, and she pondered all these things in her heart.
19 And it came to pass that the woman bore a son, whom she named Aidan, and there was much rejoicing and merriment. And she wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and lo, he crapped on the swaddling, and there was a great wailing.
20 But the woman was very happy, for her heart overfloweth with love, but she was troubled, too, for her ankles and hips overfloweth with water retention.
21 And the woman was filled with great fear and trembling, and she once again rent her garments and gnashed her teeth, for it appeared that even the fat pants would fit no more.
22 But it came to be that a great blessing was bestowed upon the woman as she tended to her son, for the affliction of her spare tire was miraculously removed, and she was healed, even lighter than before she became with child.
23 And the angel of fashion visited the woman, and behold, she was no longer afraid, but very calm from the Valium, and the angel spoke unto her:
24 "Woman, I say to thee, remove thy shapeless maternity wear! Banish thy fat garments, and put on your skinny gray pants."
25 And the woman was filled with doubt, but when she saw the angel's bling and smart clothing ensemble, lo, she was filled with belief, and she fell to her knees in praise of the Lord.
26 And so it came to pass, on the 19th day of the ninth month of the year of our Lord two thousand and eight, the woman wore her skinny dove-colored pants. The woman leapt and danced and ran 2 miles in thanksgiving.
27 And there was much merriment and celebration, and the finest beers were brought to the celebration, and lo, Irish car bombs and imported lagers were raised in celebration.
28 The celebration lasted late into the night; the flute and the lyre were filled with song, and all feasted until they had their fill and grew sleepy.
29 And the morning came, and the sun rose high, yea, the sun was hot and bright, and the woman found that her skinny gray pants still fit.
30 For I say unto thee, the power of the Lord is great, and miracles are still performed to this day.
31 Verily, I say unto thee, go out and tell this story to your peoples, and spread the Good News to all nations.
32 Amen.
Friday, September 19, 2008
thanks, but no thanks
The following post was not written by me, but by the wonderful Janet Wallace, author of the pink-a-licious blog Slice of Pink. (You can already see the blog's appeal to me just by the mention of the word pink.) I'm normally not one to talk politics - I usually avoid it at all costs - but this post struck a chord in my heart, and I wanted to share it with you, regardless of whose name you'll mark on your ballot this fall.
Oh, and also regardless of your party affiliation, or what you think of McCain, Obama, Palin, or Biden - MAKE SURE YOU VOTE. There's still time to register to vote. Do it.
Without further ado, here is the article:
I want to tell you a story.
A friend of mine recently retired from a job she had for 19 years. It was a good job, a job she enjoyed. Her work ethic was strong and her peers respected her. On the day my friend retired she received an anonymous note in her locker.
That unsigned note told her something unbelievable. It told her that she had received less pay than her male counterparts. Less pay by a lot. My friend was being paid $3,727 a month. Her male counterparts were paid between $4,286 and $5,236 per month, even though they had less seniority. Even though she was doing the exact same job.
My friend filed a lawsuit and you know? On her pay discrimination claim, she won. The jury looked at the evidence and they agreed that my friend had been discriminated against based on her gender.
But a jury's decision is not final. Even though she had won on the facts--won on the very merits of her case--there was a long road ahead.
The company appealed the judgement and the lawsuit went all they way to the United States Supreme Court. And when it got there, the Supreme Court looked at the facts and they had a vote. The four liberal justices agreed that my friend deserved her equal pay. But the five conservative justices said "close, but no cigar." My friend got nothing from the company that discriminated against her for nearly two decades. Nothing.
You see, there is this tricky thing in the law called the statute of limitations. It sets forth the maximum number of days after an event occurs that a person can initiate a lawsuit.
My friend only had 180 to call out her company on their shameless pay discrimination. Not 180 days from the day she found out--but 180 days from the time the pay decision was made, way back when she had no idea that she was being discriminated against. The clock started ticking--and, in fact, ran out--years before she even knew that she was worth less to her company because she was a woman.
This is a true story. I've never met Lilly Ledbetter, the woman who was discriminated against by Goodyear Tire Company, but her story speaks to me and I hope it speaks to you, too.
Her story spoke to Congress and they attempted, this year, to pass the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. The act would not only protect women, but also people of color, older, and disabled workers from wage discrimination.
In 2008, John McCain said "thanks, but no thanks" to fair pay for women.
Sarah Palin agreed. If she had a vote in a Congress, she, too, would have said "thanks, but no thanks" to equal pay.
They both say that they support fair pay, but how can that be? I suspect they support it in theory, but not in fact, as the facts, in fact, indicate. Who needs facts, anyway, when you can just speak in cliché?
John McCain sets forth two reasons for opposing this bill. First, he says that women need more training and education. And, second, he says that it would open the door to too many lawsuits.
More training? More education? Remember we are talking about women doing equal work "which requires equal skill, effort, and responsibility, and which [is] performed under similar working conditions." (That there would be some actual text from the law.)
And too many lawsuits? In America, you can sue because your coffee is too hot or because your dry cleaner lost your pants. I can sue you if you take this story and post it on your blog (which I would not do, so post away). But, our conservative Supreme Court Justices, in a narrow vote, have made it so that you cannot sue if your employer secretly paid you less than your male counterparts for years. Except, well, for 180 days worth of pay--if you find out soon enough.
I must ask--whose interests do McCain and Palin have at heart? Not yours, not mine. It is blatantly clear, that the McPalin tickets supports corporations at the expense of hardworking women across America. It is blatantly clear because we have actually seen what happens when corporations are not held accountable for their discriminatory practices. Nothing. Lilly Ledbetter got nothing. Goodyear got away with 19 years of paying Lilly a discriminatory wage.
And McCain and Palin are okay with that.
To John McCain and Sarah Palin, I say, "thanks, but no thanks."
Oh, and also regardless of your party affiliation, or what you think of McCain, Obama, Palin, or Biden - MAKE SURE YOU VOTE. There's still time to register to vote. Do it.
Without further ado, here is the article:
I want to tell you a story.
A friend of mine recently retired from a job she had for 19 years. It was a good job, a job she enjoyed. Her work ethic was strong and her peers respected her. On the day my friend retired she received an anonymous note in her locker.
That unsigned note told her something unbelievable. It told her that she had received less pay than her male counterparts. Less pay by a lot. My friend was being paid $3,727 a month. Her male counterparts were paid between $4,286 and $5,236 per month, even though they had less seniority. Even though she was doing the exact same job.
My friend filed a lawsuit and you know? On her pay discrimination claim, she won. The jury looked at the evidence and they agreed that my friend had been discriminated against based on her gender.
But a jury's decision is not final. Even though she had won on the facts--won on the very merits of her case--there was a long road ahead.
The company appealed the judgement and the lawsuit went all they way to the United States Supreme Court. And when it got there, the Supreme Court looked at the facts and they had a vote. The four liberal justices agreed that my friend deserved her equal pay. But the five conservative justices said "close, but no cigar." My friend got nothing from the company that discriminated against her for nearly two decades. Nothing.
You see, there is this tricky thing in the law called the statute of limitations. It sets forth the maximum number of days after an event occurs that a person can initiate a lawsuit.
My friend only had 180 to call out her company on their shameless pay discrimination. Not 180 days from the day she found out--but 180 days from the time the pay decision was made, way back when she had no idea that she was being discriminated against. The clock started ticking--and, in fact, ran out--years before she even knew that she was worth less to her company because she was a woman.
This is a true story. I've never met Lilly Ledbetter, the woman who was discriminated against by Goodyear Tire Company, but her story speaks to me and I hope it speaks to you, too.
Her story spoke to Congress and they attempted, this year, to pass the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. The act would not only protect women, but also people of color, older, and disabled workers from wage discrimination.
In 2008, John McCain said "thanks, but no thanks" to fair pay for women.
Sarah Palin agreed. If she had a vote in a Congress, she, too, would have said "thanks, but no thanks" to equal pay.
They both say that they support fair pay, but how can that be? I suspect they support it in theory, but not in fact, as the facts, in fact, indicate. Who needs facts, anyway, when you can just speak in cliché?
John McCain sets forth two reasons for opposing this bill. First, he says that women need more training and education. And, second, he says that it would open the door to too many lawsuits.
More training? More education? Remember we are talking about women doing equal work "which requires equal skill, effort, and responsibility, and which [is] performed under similar working conditions." (That there would be some actual text from the law.)
"I've got plenty of training," Ledbetter said. "What I don't have is the right to fight for what I deserve."
And too many lawsuits? In America, you can sue because your coffee is too hot or because your dry cleaner lost your pants. I can sue you if you take this story and post it on your blog (which I would not do, so post away). But, our conservative Supreme Court Justices, in a narrow vote, have made it so that you cannot sue if your employer secretly paid you less than your male counterparts for years. Except, well, for 180 days worth of pay--if you find out soon enough.
I must ask--whose interests do McCain and Palin have at heart? Not yours, not mine. It is blatantly clear, that the McPalin tickets supports corporations at the expense of hardworking women across America. It is blatantly clear because we have actually seen what happens when corporations are not held accountable for their discriminatory practices. Nothing. Lilly Ledbetter got nothing. Goodyear got away with 19 years of paying Lilly a discriminatory wage.
And McCain and Palin are okay with that.
To John McCain and Sarah Palin, I say, "thanks, but no thanks."
Saturday, September 13, 2008
random updates, volume... uh, whatever
I watch a lot of TNT during the day while I'm with Aidan. I like all the reruns of ER and Law and Order. I keep seeing ads for their new legal drama, Raising the Bar, and been consistently disturbed by Mark-Paul Gosselaar and his nappy 'do. Thankfully, it appears the good folks at TNT have provided me the solution to my annoyance.
This week, Aidan learned to focus his eyes on mine when I'm feeding him. I'm thinking this means I'd better fix myself up a little more before his eyes drift from my eyes to my hair...
I will be tempted buy almost anything if you color it pink. Also, I have been wanting a Dyson vacuum cleaner, even though they are crazy expensive and way out of our budget. But at Target this week, I spotted a pink Dyson vacuum, and I was all like, I cannot be held responsible for my actions any more.
I have to give a shout-out to one of my favorite new bloggy finds, Sue. I can't remember the path I took to stumble onto her blog, but I think she's absolutely hilarious and the kind of person I'd want to be stuck on a desert island with. Well, I don't really want to be stranded on a desert island - sunburns suck, yo - but if I had to be, I'd take her with me. Except she probably doesn't want to be stranded either. Okay, I'll settle for "I'd love to go to Starbucks with her."
I started exercising this week. Nothing major, just a half-hour walk around my neighborhood to get the heart rate up. I listen to an odd mix of music when I walk: worship artists like Brooke Fraser alongside Justin Timberlake and 50 Cent. I know, it makes no sense. It's an even weirder sight when you see a woman power-walking down your street, raising her hands in praise, eyes closed and tripping over branches, and seeing her later coming in the opposite direction, trying to do a white woman's booty shake and randomly shouting "UH!"
Speaking of worship, if you go to my church (and you should, because it rocks), do not miss this Sunday. More importantly, if you call yourself my friend, you will be there just a little early, because the very beginning of the service is going to be SO FREAKIN' COOL. I promise. Don't miss it!
This week, Aidan learned to focus his eyes on mine when I'm feeding him. I'm thinking this means I'd better fix myself up a little more before his eyes drift from my eyes to my hair...
I will be tempted buy almost anything if you color it pink. Also, I have been wanting a Dyson vacuum cleaner, even though they are crazy expensive and way out of our budget. But at Target this week, I spotted a pink Dyson vacuum, and I was all like, I cannot be held responsible for my actions any more.
I have to give a shout-out to one of my favorite new bloggy finds, Sue. I can't remember the path I took to stumble onto her blog, but I think she's absolutely hilarious and the kind of person I'd want to be stuck on a desert island with. Well, I don't really want to be stranded on a desert island - sunburns suck, yo - but if I had to be, I'd take her with me. Except she probably doesn't want to be stranded either. Okay, I'll settle for "I'd love to go to Starbucks with her."
I started exercising this week. Nothing major, just a half-hour walk around my neighborhood to get the heart rate up. I listen to an odd mix of music when I walk: worship artists like Brooke Fraser alongside Justin Timberlake and 50 Cent. I know, it makes no sense. It's an even weirder sight when you see a woman power-walking down your street, raising her hands in praise, eyes closed and tripping over branches, and seeing her later coming in the opposite direction, trying to do a white woman's booty shake and randomly shouting "UH!"
Speaking of worship, if you go to my church (and you should, because it rocks), do not miss this Sunday. More importantly, if you call yourself my friend, you will be there just a little early, because the very beginning of the service is going to be SO FREAKIN' COOL. I promise. Don't miss it!
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