1. China. I may get to do this sooner than I originally expected.
2. Paris. Because no self-proclaimed hopeless romantic should ever miss out on the chance to kiss their beloved at the Eiffel Tower.
3. Jerusalem. God is everywhere, all the time, I know, but I want to place my bare feet on Holy Ground, where Jesus walked and lived and changed the world forever.
4. Grand Rapids, Michigan. I can't travel back in time to live in Jason's childhood, but he can take me to see the places and the people that meant so much to him.
5. Heaven. But I'd really like to see places #1-4 first. :-)
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
where anne completely alienates herself, ends up with no friends, and dies alone
I'm going to do it. I'm going to talk politics. And GOD. In the SAME POST.
Oh my.
Over the past couple of days, as the polls closed and the numbers poured in and the blue outweighed the red, I've heard mostly strong reactions from my friends. Some are elated. Some say they need a strong, stiff drink. Some called Tuesday night "fantastic and historic" and used words like "hope" and "change". Some are convinced our country is going to hell in a handbasket.
I've heard all the arguments. I've heard all the reasons why I'm a bad Christian if I vote for Obama, or why I'm a bad Christian if I vote for McCain. I've read all sorts of articles, speech transcripts, and even Scripture supporting or opposing the candidates. I've heard someone claim that Jesus himself would not vote for Obama. I've heard McCain repeatedly called "McSame". And above all, I've heard a universal decry of hate against Bush and his performance in office over the past 8 years.
I'm TIRED of it. I'm so glad this election is over.
Why? Because as a Christian, I am told over and over again not to trust in man, but to trust in Him. And yet, I see so many Christians forgetting the sovereignty of God and allowing despair to overtake them because the candidate they voted for did not win Tuesday night. My wise husband noted this on his blog today:
I won't lie: I'm kind of jazzed that Obama won. I like him. I do believe that he'll be a positive force in our country and even our world. If you want to know why I supported Obama in this election, you can read articles like this one and this one and this one and, from the horse's mouth himself, this one.
But I could very well be wrong. I'm very aware of that. Frankly, both candidates had positions on issues opposite of my own beliefs. There was no perfect candidate, and there never will be.
Though it is a daily exercise I must do, and often do not accomplish as much as I would like, I choose to put my total faith in God. I vote to the best of my knowledge, and the rest... the rest I have to put in His hands, regardless of whether my chosen candidate wins or loses.
Though I am hopeful in our President-elect and his abilities, I do not put all my trust in him. I do not see him as the salvation of America. I see him as a man who has inherited a HUGE amount of responsibility. A man greatly in need of our prayers.
And I'll be the first to admit, when I see the economy taking a huge nose-dive, when homes all around me are falling into foreclosure, when dear friends of mine work so hard and yet still cannot afford to buy groceries, when our soldiers continue to die overseas, when decent healthcare becomes less and less affordable, when government continues to spew out corruption and greed... I want to blame someone. And I want someone to come in and fix it. And I want to hope with all my might that someone charismatic enough, smart enough, educated enough, and honest enough would come in and save the day. I look to man and not to God. But He is always on the throne, no matter who is President. Even if we voted for a totally corrupt, ignorant, atheistic moron, God is still sovereign. He is still in control. He is bigger than any man or woman we elect into office. He is GOD. And He will always save the day.
I'm tired of the divisiveness among us. I'm tired of feeling as though I have to defend my choice for President in order to prove my worth as a Christian, particularly in the hot-spot issues of abortion and homosexuality. I'm tired of holding my tongue and deliberately evading the "who ya votin' for?" question because I'm just too overwhelmed with life in general to get sucked into a heated political argument. I'm tired of listening to people tearing each other apart in the name of "justice" and politics. I watched, recently, as two friends literally ripped each other to shreds on Facebook, complete with some horrid name-calling and personal attacks, because they were voting for different candidates. It was completely obvious that they would need to "agree to disagree", but instead, they just wouldn't let up. They kept verbally prodding each other, insisting on their own righteousness, only to further inflame the other person. It was bordering on the ridiculous and would have almost been funny had they not been throwing their faith into the argument as well. It broke my heart, because it's the same scene that's been playing out all over the country for so long.
I pray that we can go out into the world and speak of Jesus with the same fervent optimism and passion as I've heard many people speak of their presidential candidate of choice. I pray that we would not let politics compartmentalize, falsely categorize, and divide us, but that we would stand united with humility and compassion and not allow the circumstances of this world - political or otherwise - dictate whether we were in despair or jubilation. Our President-elect, though granted great responsibility and power, is only human. He is only a man, one man. If we put all our hope in Barack Obama, or any other President, we will inevitably be disappointed, let down, failed.
Our God reigns, forever and ever. He is constant. He is sovereign. He is the God of love, of justice, of life eternal. And He will never, ever be voted out.
And He LIVES, my dear friends. Go out into the world, dance in the streets, throw the parades, and proclaim the Good News.
Oh my.
Over the past couple of days, as the polls closed and the numbers poured in and the blue outweighed the red, I've heard mostly strong reactions from my friends. Some are elated. Some say they need a strong, stiff drink. Some called Tuesday night "fantastic and historic" and used words like "hope" and "change". Some are convinced our country is going to hell in a handbasket.
I've heard all the arguments. I've heard all the reasons why I'm a bad Christian if I vote for Obama, or why I'm a bad Christian if I vote for McCain. I've read all sorts of articles, speech transcripts, and even Scripture supporting or opposing the candidates. I've heard someone claim that Jesus himself would not vote for Obama. I've heard McCain repeatedly called "McSame". And above all, I've heard a universal decry of hate against Bush and his performance in office over the past 8 years.
I'm TIRED of it. I'm so glad this election is over.
Why? Because as a Christian, I am told over and over again not to trust in man, but to trust in Him. And yet, I see so many Christians forgetting the sovereignty of God and allowing despair to overtake them because the candidate they voted for did not win Tuesday night. My wise husband noted this on his blog today:
Several friends on social networks have made updates similar to "despite the election results, trusting in the sovereignty of God." If the election had turned out differently, would you have made that statement today? We often make that kind of statement when we are in the middle of circumstances we see as BAD. The fact is, God is in control no matter who is president. If McCain had won, we would still need to trust in the sovereignty of God. Don't put your trust in princes, but in the King of Kings.
I won't lie: I'm kind of jazzed that Obama won. I like him. I do believe that he'll be a positive force in our country and even our world. If you want to know why I supported Obama in this election, you can read articles like this one and this one and this one and, from the horse's mouth himself, this one.
But I could very well be wrong. I'm very aware of that. Frankly, both candidates had positions on issues opposite of my own beliefs. There was no perfect candidate, and there never will be.
Though it is a daily exercise I must do, and often do not accomplish as much as I would like, I choose to put my total faith in God. I vote to the best of my knowledge, and the rest... the rest I have to put in His hands, regardless of whether my chosen candidate wins or loses.
Though I am hopeful in our President-elect and his abilities, I do not put all my trust in him. I do not see him as the salvation of America. I see him as a man who has inherited a HUGE amount of responsibility. A man greatly in need of our prayers.
And I'll be the first to admit, when I see the economy taking a huge nose-dive, when homes all around me are falling into foreclosure, when dear friends of mine work so hard and yet still cannot afford to buy groceries, when our soldiers continue to die overseas, when decent healthcare becomes less and less affordable, when government continues to spew out corruption and greed... I want to blame someone. And I want someone to come in and fix it. And I want to hope with all my might that someone charismatic enough, smart enough, educated enough, and honest enough would come in and save the day. I look to man and not to God. But He is always on the throne, no matter who is President. Even if we voted for a totally corrupt, ignorant, atheistic moron, God is still sovereign. He is still in control. He is bigger than any man or woman we elect into office. He is GOD. And He will always save the day.
I'm tired of the divisiveness among us. I'm tired of feeling as though I have to defend my choice for President in order to prove my worth as a Christian, particularly in the hot-spot issues of abortion and homosexuality. I'm tired of holding my tongue and deliberately evading the "who ya votin' for?" question because I'm just too overwhelmed with life in general to get sucked into a heated political argument. I'm tired of listening to people tearing each other apart in the name of "justice" and politics. I watched, recently, as two friends literally ripped each other to shreds on Facebook, complete with some horrid name-calling and personal attacks, because they were voting for different candidates. It was completely obvious that they would need to "agree to disagree", but instead, they just wouldn't let up. They kept verbally prodding each other, insisting on their own righteousness, only to further inflame the other person. It was bordering on the ridiculous and would have almost been funny had they not been throwing their faith into the argument as well. It broke my heart, because it's the same scene that's been playing out all over the country for so long.
I pray that we can go out into the world and speak of Jesus with the same fervent optimism and passion as I've heard many people speak of their presidential candidate of choice. I pray that we would not let politics compartmentalize, falsely categorize, and divide us, but that we would stand united with humility and compassion and not allow the circumstances of this world - political or otherwise - dictate whether we were in despair or jubilation. Our President-elect, though granted great responsibility and power, is only human. He is only a man, one man. If we put all our hope in Barack Obama, or any other President, we will inevitably be disappointed, let down, failed.
Our God reigns, forever and ever. He is constant. He is sovereign. He is the God of love, of justice, of life eternal. And He will never, ever be voted out.
And He LIVES, my dear friends. Go out into the world, dance in the streets, throw the parades, and proclaim the Good News.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
wordless wednesday: how we do
Despite him having been born to the whitest parents in America, I'm proud to say Aidan now knows how to roll in da hood.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
where anne eats her foot
Jason opened the door last night to a good friend of ours who was bringing over a late baby gift. We welcomed her in, showed her around, let her see our sleeping son all snuggled in his blanket, chewed the fat.
She gave us a beautifully-wrapped box.
On the top of the box was a small sachet of Pee Pee Tee Pees. Totally awesome.
In the box was a wipe warmer. The EXACT wipe warmer we have.
There are moments where you must make a split-second decision about how you'll react. I was, of course, completely touched by the gift. I was also feeling stupid because I clearly had not updated my registry, thinking we wouldn't be getting any more gifts after I had my baby shower. I was also thinking another wipe warmer would be extremely useful over at my dad's place. I was ALSO wondering which one of these many sentiments I should display in front of our friend, as she was eagerly watching my reaction as I opened the box.
That's just too much thinking for me, kids. My brain completely short-circuited.
"Oh, we LUVVVV it!" I cooed. "Aidan won't have to deal with cold wipes anymore!"
There were smiles. There was more conversation. And then Jason did it:
"Oh, you have to see the nursery. It looks so great."
And so we traipsed off to Aidan's room. And after we all admired the wall colors, the adorable crib set, the bear-themed blanket over the matching glider, we saw the existing wipe warmer. And smiles faded.
Sigh.
And tons of excuses followed. Because really, we were excited about the second warmer, but do you really want to announce at the gift opening that, oh, sorry, already have this? No, of course not. But now it looked like we had totally lied. And suddenly our friend announced that she REAALLY should get going, and bye thanks for the gift, and she ran out the door.
Le sigh.
She gave us a beautifully-wrapped box.
On the top of the box was a small sachet of Pee Pee Tee Pees. Totally awesome.
In the box was a wipe warmer. The EXACT wipe warmer we have.
There are moments where you must make a split-second decision about how you'll react. I was, of course, completely touched by the gift. I was also feeling stupid because I clearly had not updated my registry, thinking we wouldn't be getting any more gifts after I had my baby shower. I was also thinking another wipe warmer would be extremely useful over at my dad's place. I was ALSO wondering which one of these many sentiments I should display in front of our friend, as she was eagerly watching my reaction as I opened the box.
That's just too much thinking for me, kids. My brain completely short-circuited.
"Oh, we LUVVVV it!" I cooed. "Aidan won't have to deal with cold wipes anymore!"
There were smiles. There was more conversation. And then Jason did it:
"Oh, you have to see the nursery. It looks so great."
And so we traipsed off to Aidan's room. And after we all admired the wall colors, the adorable crib set, the bear-themed blanket over the matching glider, we saw the existing wipe warmer. And smiles faded.
Sigh.
And tons of excuses followed. Because really, we were excited about the second warmer, but do you really want to announce at the gift opening that, oh, sorry, already have this? No, of course not. But now it looked like we had totally lied. And suddenly our friend announced that she REAALLY should get going, and bye thanks for the gift, and she ran out the door.
Le sigh.
Monday, November 3, 2008
where anne completely reveals her dorky musical side
Most of you who know me know that I spent a substantial portion of my young adulthood pursuing a career as a professional opera singer. Sort of, anyway. I made it about as far as grad school, and realized that the idea of having a career largely dependent on other peoples' opinions of me was my personal idea of hell. Entertaining a crowd and singing my heart out was one thing, but all those music critics and judgmental professors and opera fanatics who tear apart every single performance? Nuh-uh. So that was sort of a discouraging factor in the process. I was so insecure about myself, my voice, my potential... there was no way I'd survive the first bad review or harsh comment, I thought.
Then there was the question of the Fach. No, it's not a dirty word, I promise: your Fach is your vocal classification, like "coloratura soprano" or "dramatic tenor". All through my vocal training, everyone I knew seemed to fall so easily into a vocal category, repertoire was easy to pick, roles assigned easily. Me? Not so much. I've been called many different things: lyric mezzo, dramatic soprano still needing to fully mature into my voice, lyric soprano with a stunted high range, and "I don't know what you are." Soprano arias scared the bejeezus out of me because I always had High-Note-Itis: attempting anything higher than a high B-flat made my throat inexplicably choke up and tighten, frustrating my teachers and leaving me in tears. Mezzo arias... well, they were considerably less scary as they contained way fewer high notes, but I always sounded like a soprano singing mezzo arias because I had no high notes, which may have been true. I didn't have that rich coloring and weight in my voice I always thought was necessary to really sing mezzo roles, even the higher, lighter ones. So I was stuck.
And then there were a bunch of other little things: running out of money to pay for my lessons and coachings, seeing friends in the business struggle and live from paycheck to paycheck (which I was already doing, really, but I didn't want to anymore), thinking about my future and seeing nothing but dark fog and a huge question mark, and also feeling like EVERYONE was more talented than I was. (Yeah, I know. I had issues.)
So I stopped the pursuit, mourned the loss of a huge dream, and tried to move on with my life. I abandoned the thought of ever singing before an audience at any opera house, major or obscure, and concentrated on taking a completely different career path. Eventually, I dropped out of the local Bach choir, left the weekend church choir where I was a (meagerly) paid soloist, didn't reaudition for the local opera chorus, and stopped thumbing through music books looking for pieces to sing and learn. Even as I type this now, I can look to my left and see a huge load of classical vocal CDs, filled with the voices of my mentors and idols, that have collected dust and gone mostly unlistened to over the past 7-8 years. I've tried to listen to them and not have my heart filled to overflowing with longing and the realization of a very broken dream, but it usually doesn't happen that way. Even the purely instrumental and orchestral pieces make me fervently wish I'd stuck with the violin or piano lessons.
I still sing. Not like I used to, though. The style of singing I find myself doing on Sunday mornings is leagues away from the world of Mozart, Brahms, and Strauss. I am singing the sort of music I know many of my classical-singing friends would have turned stomachs over, and even now, I still feel like I'm searching for my voice, still trying to figure out the instrument inside of me. I still don't know what the heck kind of voice I have, and I've nearly given up trying to figure it out. Our worship team leader said to me once, "I don't know what to do with your voice." And I don't remember what I said to him at the time, but I probably just shrugged my shoulders and sighed, because I've heard that so, so many times in my life and I *still* don't know what to say to it. Sorry I'm so difficult. Sorry I do not have an easily-categorized, compartmentalized voice, people.
Today, I've been hanging out with Aidan. I've turned off the TV, pulled up my laptop with all my music on it, plugged it into our nice speakers, and just started singing along. Aidan was completely mesmerized - turns out I'm more of a hit than those two blond chicks from Baby Einstein. I started out singing some pop stuff to him, and then I switched over to a snippet from Brahms' German Requiem - here's a video of one of my vocal heroes, Barbara Bonney, singing what I sung to Aidan:
Aidan loved it. I sang it to him a few times. It felt so good to be singing like that again. And suddenly, I was back there again, back in that old dream, and that longing to finally have a voice that does things right resurfaced. And I wished that, just once, I could sing that very piece, in front of an audience with an orchestra behind me, no High Note-Itis, all the required breath control (and that song needs three lungs). And it was too difficult not to cry a little and wish for the things that might have been.
I don't know if I'll ever see that dream realized this side of heaven. And I don't have a deep, profound resolution to this story... yet. I'm still working on that. In the meantime, though, I think I'll try and see how it feels to reconnect with a lost part of myself, and maybe even discover the joy in a voice that isn't so easily categorized and has a unique sound all its own.
"And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." John 16:22 (English translation of part of the lyrics of the above piece)
Then there was the question of the Fach. No, it's not a dirty word, I promise: your Fach is your vocal classification, like "coloratura soprano" or "dramatic tenor". All through my vocal training, everyone I knew seemed to fall so easily into a vocal category, repertoire was easy to pick, roles assigned easily. Me? Not so much. I've been called many different things: lyric mezzo, dramatic soprano still needing to fully mature into my voice, lyric soprano with a stunted high range, and "I don't know what you are." Soprano arias scared the bejeezus out of me because I always had High-Note-Itis: attempting anything higher than a high B-flat made my throat inexplicably choke up and tighten, frustrating my teachers and leaving me in tears. Mezzo arias... well, they were considerably less scary as they contained way fewer high notes, but I always sounded like a soprano singing mezzo arias because I had no high notes, which may have been true. I didn't have that rich coloring and weight in my voice I always thought was necessary to really sing mezzo roles, even the higher, lighter ones. So I was stuck.
And then there were a bunch of other little things: running out of money to pay for my lessons and coachings, seeing friends in the business struggle and live from paycheck to paycheck (which I was already doing, really, but I didn't want to anymore), thinking about my future and seeing nothing but dark fog and a huge question mark, and also feeling like EVERYONE was more talented than I was. (Yeah, I know. I had issues.)
So I stopped the pursuit, mourned the loss of a huge dream, and tried to move on with my life. I abandoned the thought of ever singing before an audience at any opera house, major or obscure, and concentrated on taking a completely different career path. Eventually, I dropped out of the local Bach choir, left the weekend church choir where I was a (meagerly) paid soloist, didn't reaudition for the local opera chorus, and stopped thumbing through music books looking for pieces to sing and learn. Even as I type this now, I can look to my left and see a huge load of classical vocal CDs, filled with the voices of my mentors and idols, that have collected dust and gone mostly unlistened to over the past 7-8 years. I've tried to listen to them and not have my heart filled to overflowing with longing and the realization of a very broken dream, but it usually doesn't happen that way. Even the purely instrumental and orchestral pieces make me fervently wish I'd stuck with the violin or piano lessons.
I still sing. Not like I used to, though. The style of singing I find myself doing on Sunday mornings is leagues away from the world of Mozart, Brahms, and Strauss. I am singing the sort of music I know many of my classical-singing friends would have turned stomachs over, and even now, I still feel like I'm searching for my voice, still trying to figure out the instrument inside of me. I still don't know what the heck kind of voice I have, and I've nearly given up trying to figure it out. Our worship team leader said to me once, "I don't know what to do with your voice." And I don't remember what I said to him at the time, but I probably just shrugged my shoulders and sighed, because I've heard that so, so many times in my life and I *still* don't know what to say to it. Sorry I'm so difficult. Sorry I do not have an easily-categorized, compartmentalized voice, people.
Today, I've been hanging out with Aidan. I've turned off the TV, pulled up my laptop with all my music on it, plugged it into our nice speakers, and just started singing along. Aidan was completely mesmerized - turns out I'm more of a hit than those two blond chicks from Baby Einstein. I started out singing some pop stuff to him, and then I switched over to a snippet from Brahms' German Requiem - here's a video of one of my vocal heroes, Barbara Bonney, singing what I sung to Aidan:
Aidan loved it. I sang it to him a few times. It felt so good to be singing like that again. And suddenly, I was back there again, back in that old dream, and that longing to finally have a voice that does things right resurfaced. And I wished that, just once, I could sing that very piece, in front of an audience with an orchestra behind me, no High Note-Itis, all the required breath control (and that song needs three lungs). And it was too difficult not to cry a little and wish for the things that might have been.
I don't know if I'll ever see that dream realized this side of heaven. And I don't have a deep, profound resolution to this story... yet. I'm still working on that. In the meantime, though, I think I'll try and see how it feels to reconnect with a lost part of myself, and maybe even discover the joy in a voice that isn't so easily categorized and has a unique sound all its own.
"And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." John 16:22 (English translation of part of the lyrics of the above piece)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
whoops... almost
It's 10pm, November 1. I just now remembered that today starts National Blog Posting Month, also affectionately referred to as NaBloPoMo. It's a challenge to bloggers everywhere: post something every day for a month. That's it.
And, in the spirit of just-in-the-nick-of-time blogging, I wish you all a happy NaBloPoMo, and encourage all my bloggy friends to participate with me. You still have a couple of hours left...
And, in the spirit of just-in-the-nick-of-time blogging, I wish you all a happy NaBloPoMo, and encourage all my bloggy friends to participate with me. You still have a couple of hours left...
Friday, October 31, 2008
five fantasy careers
Obviously, I haven't ever held any of these jobs, but I have this feeling that I would be completely AWESOME at them:
1. Talk show host. I think it would be awesome to do schtick with celebrities all day in front of a cheering audience. And I would be one of those extra-cool hosts that gives away totally amazing gifts to my audience, and everyone would jump up and down and cry in joy.
2. Personal shopper to really rich people. I hate shopping for myself - clothes, anyway. But I luvvvv shopping for other people... so then you give me money to buy you awesome things AND pay me on top of that? Seriously sweet.
3. Official taste-tester for Haagen-Daaz. Do I need to explain this one? I didn't think so.
4. Astronaut. I would love to see God's amazing creation from space. Also? That zero-gravity idea really appeals to me. There are no scales in space, yo.
5. Best-selling authoress. Fiction, probably. And I would have some romantic nom de plume, a mysterious photo on the back cover with heavily-made-up eyes, and legions of people wondering who I really am and where do I get my amazing inspiration. Also, I would have an adorable cottage in some remote scenic area where I hole myself to do my writing. And someone to clean up after me, too.
1. Talk show host. I think it would be awesome to do schtick with celebrities all day in front of a cheering audience. And I would be one of those extra-cool hosts that gives away totally amazing gifts to my audience, and everyone would jump up and down and cry in joy.
2. Personal shopper to really rich people. I hate shopping for myself - clothes, anyway. But I luvvvv shopping for other people... so then you give me money to buy you awesome things AND pay me on top of that? Seriously sweet.
3. Official taste-tester for Haagen-Daaz. Do I need to explain this one? I didn't think so.
4. Astronaut. I would love to see God's amazing creation from space. Also? That zero-gravity idea really appeals to me. There are no scales in space, yo.
5. Best-selling authoress. Fiction, probably. And I would have some romantic nom de plume, a mysterious photo on the back cover with heavily-made-up eyes, and legions of people wondering who I really am and where do I get my amazing inspiration. Also, I would have an adorable cottage in some remote scenic area where I hole myself to do my writing. And someone to clean up after me, too.
Monday, October 27, 2008
random updates: the day-before edition
It's official: tomorrow is my first day back to work. Am I looking forward to it? Yes. Am I dreading it? Yes. Right now as I type this, I am watching Aidan be unbelievably cute, something he does more and more each day... but I am also eager to hang out with adults, help other people, and earn a paycheck again. Because, you know, being broke? Le suck. But I am so, so going to miss my lil' peanut.
I bought a journal. I realized that what I post for you is maybe 1-2 percent of what my life encompasses, and some things are just not fit for publication, yo. So with the idea that only I read my journal - this could be tricky in a house that now contains children - I am reclaiming a bit of my teenagerhood and keeping a diary.
I started a Monday series, and once again, I am behind on it. This is not the first time this has happened. I realized that some of the stories from when I lived with Katie were actually much funnier if you were there when it happened. Maybe it's a deficit on my storytelling part, too, but I'm having a hard time really recapturing just how funny some of our hijinks were. So, this week's edition might be late.
Is this election OVER already? Sheesh.
Thanks to Kelly, every time I pass a Starbucks, I want to pull in and order a gallon of their salted caramel hot chocolate. It is seriously, sinfully, unbelievably yummy. And if you buy me one, well... there's no telling how far and wide my gratitude will reach.
I bought a journal. I realized that what I post for you is maybe 1-2 percent of what my life encompasses, and some things are just not fit for publication, yo. So with the idea that only I read my journal - this could be tricky in a house that now contains children - I am reclaiming a bit of my teenagerhood and keeping a diary.
I started a Monday series, and once again, I am behind on it. This is not the first time this has happened. I realized that some of the stories from when I lived with Katie were actually much funnier if you were there when it happened. Maybe it's a deficit on my storytelling part, too, but I'm having a hard time really recapturing just how funny some of our hijinks were. So, this week's edition might be late.
Is this election OVER already? Sheesh.
Thanks to Kelly, every time I pass a Starbucks, I want to pull in and order a gallon of their salted caramel hot chocolate. It is seriously, sinfully, unbelievably yummy. And if you buy me one, well... there's no telling how far and wide my gratitude will reach.
Friday, October 24, 2008
frustrated: the diaper edition
Okay, so I tried the Thirsties all-in-one diapers my brother bought for Aidan. And they leaked. So I washed them as recommended, hot water, additive-free detergent (and only about 1/4 the normal amount), made sure they were super dry from the dryer. I tried them again. LEAK.
I re-did the whole process. Washing, drying, praying. STILL LEAKED.
And now I am beyond frustrated and wondering out loud to any of my cloth diapering mommy friends: what am I missing or doing wrong? Why are these diapers oozing out pee the minute Aidan pees? It's like it all wicks out to the legs and the top of his butt. The diaper looks like it fits right. I don't use fabric softeners or anything else in the laundry with them.
Grrrr. Stupid diapers.
Any suggestions, moms? Besides going back to my trusty, disposable, yet earth-stabbing Pampers?
I re-did the whole process. Washing, drying, praying. STILL LEAKED.
And now I am beyond frustrated and wondering out loud to any of my cloth diapering mommy friends: what am I missing or doing wrong? Why are these diapers oozing out pee the minute Aidan pees? It's like it all wicks out to the legs and the top of his butt. The diaper looks like it fits right. I don't use fabric softeners or anything else in the laundry with them.
Grrrr. Stupid diapers.
Any suggestions, moms? Besides going back to my trusty, disposable, yet earth-stabbing Pampers?
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