Fun with mirrors
Posted on July 28, 2010 - Filed Under rod stuff, wordless wednesday
This… is Us… at the Genesee Theatre in Waukegan, IL this past April.
Where do we go now?
Posted on July 26, 2010 - Filed Under times of testing
Back in the veryveryvery beginning of my knowing Rod, one day I sent him a barrage of emails with the words to Guns n Roses “Sweet Child of Mine.” You know, that vocal riff Axl does at the end that starts with “Where do we go now, where do we go?” Yeah. I typed that.
I’ll not be doing that again, but I find myself asking the question a lot these days.
Branson Gospel Music Convention 2010 came in whirl of activity… an extreme sport of highs and lows, victories and disappointments, love and resentment, surprises and plans fulfilled. It was a good time, a great success, actually, but for some reason I came home dejected, isolated, and kind of lost.
Meanwhile, we’ve had showing after showing on our house, with no offers yet. And while I am not in a hurry for the vast unknown of packing up and moving our family to a different state, I hate limbo. Hate. It. The fun of making the house “show ready” in the midst of our home office and two toddlers kind of gets stale after awhile as well.
And… the inevitable occurred, the end of Rod’s severance. And while we have downsized and saved and prepared for this time of true self-employment, it is scary to me. Scary! And yet I know good things, reliable things, better things are coming down the pike. I just can’t see them yet.
Honestly, the only thing I have been excited about lately is preparation for homeschooling. Paige, after 11 years of public school, has decided to take the leap this year. So I spend time shopping curriculum, planning applications, thinking it through, adding Miranda’s pre-school start-up to the mix. As usual, I like the New Thing aspect of a new adventure. I have no idea how we as a family will accomplish such a task in the midst of travel, moving, et al, but I know it’s the right thing for us.
So what is the problem, you ask? Well, I don’t know. I guess for the moment, it’s my own lack of vision. There are all these plates spinning in the world around me and while I can manage to keep them spinning, I don’t see an end game. There are words that have been spoken to us that I took to heart and believed, but I don’t see the actions to accompany them, yet. There are dreams and visions birthed in moments of true excitement that now seem like one more thing to do.
I am looking for my purpose, I guess. I had it, and now it feels lost.
One of the most amazing moments of the week in Branson, which feels so far right now, was a small opportunity I received to preach. The message I gave focused in part on my transformation from a person who always expected the worst to a person who believes so much in God’s best for me that I have come to look for it—
You know, one of those annoying people who looks for a rainbow whenever it rains?
You know what’s more annoying?
A person who believes the rainbow is coming but gets testy, impatient, even grossly ambivalent when it is delayed.
I am trying to keep from being that person, hoping it’s just an early-Halloween costume I’ve temporarily donned to cope with a passing season. Ambivalence and cynicism breed nothing productive, and a lack of productivity, above all else, is something I cannot tolerate.
So I will just keep chanting, singing, sending Rod messages: Where do we go now, ah-ha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a….?
A Monday moment
Posted on July 12, 2010 - Filed Under gospel wife
We are back to life today – back to working, cleaning, exercising, play-dating, message-answering, basking.
Branson Gospel Music Convention 2010 was amazing. There were some tough moments, some hard decisions, some unfortunate fall-out, but this weekend, with friends, we were able to reflect on the Good, and testify to the Great, and begin to look forward to the Next.
I am going to be writing more, of course, but my sweet friend Julie Groves shared a photo that for me, embodies the whole spirit & truth of what this event is about.
During the last concert of 9, on that Friday night, our friends McMillan and Life sacrificed most of their 20 minute set to pray. For us – for the Burtons, with an audience of a thousand or so. They prayed for God’s protection over our family, for His wisdom & guidance as we follow His call.
Jimmy, Liz, Devin, how can we ever thank you for this? We only hope God will bless you tenfold.
Now you may discuss how cutely I rock the ‘dress with boots’ look. kthanks 
Why We Are Friends
Posted on June 22, 2010 - Filed Under wordless wednesday
A not so Wordless Wednesday:
I took this picture right after writing this post on why moms should support each other.
My friend Martha had borrowed and returned the pack-n-play sheets on the left. I had packed the one on the right. As I was getting Kaity’s bedding ready on the bus, late Saturday night, I had to laugh.
We are a study in contrasts. We are great friends.
She swears she didn’t iron them, but compared to the one I “folded,” that’s hard to believe.
One more time: I have the best friends in the world.
The Facebook of Judges, Mommy Chapter
Posted on June 19, 2010 - Filed Under I love being a mommy, rant
Photo: KK climbs to the top!
Confession: I can’t kick Facebook.
Even though I generally have more fun with Twitter, even though FB can be fraught with drama, I can’t give it up. I have a great time wishing people Happy Birthday even if I haven’t seen them since junior high, I like looking at pictures of people’s kids and vacations and proms, I am seriously happy to have reconnected with teachers I’ve had and friends from Saukview School and people we only see occasionally on the road and to keep up with friends who live far away.
But I hate, hate, HATE FB drama. I hate when people use their status bar as a weapon or a way to vaguely suggest something BIG is going on so everyone will ask WHAT? These things are the sure ways for me to hit that ‘delete’ button.
There’s another button I’ve been using lot lately, though, and it’s the HIDE. Because I can’t believe some of the things people write… people whom I am certain would not say such things in Real Life. And I am not talking about the ‘drunk’ FBers, the bitter victims of break ups, or the chronic vulgarity-users. I’m talking about The Mommies, including the Good Christian Mommies, who seem to have the market cornered on what is good for EVERYone’s children.
I have always been a firm believer that everyone who seems to have it All Together likely doesn’t. I’ve told people before: I struggle with new mommies who have perfect figures, because mine is far from the less-than-perfect (but looking back 4 years and 25 pounds ago, pretty hot) one that I had pre-pregnancy. I admit, I have not made my shape a priority, though my appearance pretty much grieves me. I’m a hair and make-up girl, I take pride in looking nice, even if I’m going to just be home all day, but if one more person mistakes my Leftovers for another baby on the way, I might be performing lyposuction on myself. I have made many vows to go running, to stop eating junk, blahblahblah, but I haven’t stuck with anything. It’ MY problem, and when I see Beautiful New Mom of Infant who looks like she belongs in Maxim, it’s hard for me not to hate her a little.Furthermore, being around the skinnies makes me feel inferior.There. I said it.
OK. That was a tangent, and not the real issue here. the one I see running rampant among my 700 or so peeps on FB is the judge-y-ness of other people raise their kids. And it irks me to the bone.
When Rod & I got married 7 years ago, I returned to school to finish my teaching degree. It was a grueling process of a few years: I gave up a great job with great benefits, I was gone 4 nights a week for classes, and then there was the 15-week exercise in torture called Student Teaching (all while going through fertility testing, his dad’s long convalescence with Alzheimer’s, and other fun, blended family stuff). I was fortunate to score an immediate full time position… and then 4 months later, my miracle pregnancy stole the spotlight of my new career.
I had always assumed I would be a ‘working mom,’ but pretty much the moment that test shouted YES, I was in tears telling Rod I had no desire to leave my baby with someone else for 8-9 hours a day. I KNOW many moms don’t have a choice in the matter, and I respect that to the utmost, but I was blessed to have a choice. I had Miranda in November 2006, less than one year after earning my hard-won degree…and the way things are going, I’m fairly certain I won’t return to conventional teaching, at least not in the foreseeable future.
Of course I second guessed that decision, particularly in the first months as I still kept in touch with colleagues, as I missed my Career Clothes, as I longed for ‘something else’ to do. I tried a number of avenues (& I apologize for my brief MLM craze & thank all those who had parties for me). I never dreamed that by the time Miranda was 2 (& Kaity was still an infant), that I would have a work-at-home business with my husband, equal to a full time job in its hours, but less predictable than any job I’d ever had.
Working at home – and now both of Randa & KK’s parents do – brings with it a different set of boundaries and issues and decisions. Like every other parent, we are never really ‘off,’ but sometimes, we need to work while the kids are awake and there is no sitter. Sometimes I am giving an interview while they are screaming over a toy. Sometimes I am talking to my boss while helping someone potty, and many times while cooking dinner. Sometimes, God help us all, I plant my kids in front of the TV for a movie or two so I can ‘get some stuff done.’ This is often a source of guilt for me, but sometimes there is not a better option, and my Friends, a word I am using more and more carefully, understand.
Because there is a flip side to the chaos that is our work from home/work from the bus life. My kids have traveled extensively in their short lives. They have seen countless concerts, been to many kinds of churches, and made friends of all ages from people in many different regions. They can sing and have a sincere interest in music. They know how to recognize a time of prayer. They know how to adjust their schedules…on the road, they are often up past midnight and sleeping until 10am…and they are in great health.
Our “chaos,” our lack of convention, flexible schedule, incessant movie watching means that we get to be with our kids most of the time. It means we get to take them to work with us. It means we get to do fun things in different places because when we travel for work, we can often build in some fun time. It means, praise God, that after the madness of May & June, we can take most of July off, and likely December too… So the kids are pretty forgiving that during May & June, I don’t bake the bread, the pizza is out of the freezer instead of from scratch, and a playdate is 60 minutes at the park with a box of crackers instead of 3 hours at our house with a catered-style lunch.
Our “chaos” also means that things like potty training or craft time or a sugarless diet or whatever 21st century American mommies are supposed to do a certain way… doesn’t get done a certain way. And seriously, until you’ve tried keeping a 2 year old dry while schlepping her through the mountains on a 40 foot piece of steel or taking her in and out of 6 meetings in a day, you really can’t know. What I can tell you is that she will be potty trained…we’re not worried. Nor are we worried about the long-term affects on her health if she eats a cookie before lunch or a piece of taffy during a church service to keep her calm/content.
Photo: Randa thrives in spite of processed cheese.
I am not responding to any specific criticisms I’ve received. My mommy friends mostly have lives completely different than mine, but are fully supportive of each other. We play off one another’s strengths and support each other in our shortcomings. I could not ask for better people to navigate this road alongside me.
And truly, I think much of these FB JUDGMENTS of which I speak are not meant to be so stinking critical. I just wish women would consider how their statements might sound to others. That kid wigging out in the store while your precious one is sitting perfectly still might have a tummy ache, might be a much-tossed-about foster kid, might have been in court that morning, might have a developmental difference, or might, you know, just be having a bad day like everyone else is entitled to do. That mom letting her child eat a TREAT instead of a meal? Perhaps they just came from dropping Daddy at the airport for a long trip, or the dog just went away on a permanent trip. And that kid who has a bottle, a sippy, mom’s milk, a diaper, a paccy, a blankie, co-sleeps, blahblah whatever longer than yours did? Ask yourself: why do you care?
I know there are some less-than-great moms out there and some kids who are just plain unruly. But how could we possibly tell the difference from a brief encounter? How can we possibly know what their lives are like? And really, are Pull-ups or processed American cheese or the occasional popscicle for lunch going to cause our children to drop out of school and develop into societal menaces? Is it going to make us better moms or our children better people if we are measuring our own successes by the “shortcomings” of others?
All we can do is the best we can do… and I think part of that best is choosing to support other moms and kids trying to figure this out instead of letting them know how to do it better/just like we would. Before you hit that ‘submit’ button, consider what others might post in response to seeing one of your challenging mommy moments.
The Truth About Branson
Posted on June 16, 2010 - Filed Under travel log, wordless wednesday
It REALLY does shut down for the winter. I did not make up the Dunkin’ Donuts story. And here is my proof: a glorious sign I saw last week:
I would likely love to live there…April - December!
My Big… Italian Family
Posted on June 8, 2010 - Filed Under wordless wednesday
From Dad’s 65th Birthday/Retirement party May 1, 2010 | Wordless Wednesday
l-r: cousin Johnny Navelli, cousin Tom Palanca, the two Jerry Capriottis (my dad & brother), and cousin Lauren…whose mom is my dad’s sister, and therefore got screwed right out of the cool Italian last name. (Her husband Lee is hiding behind there too).
Sometimes, my husband, who gave to me many wonderful things as well as a boring last name, has me recite Italian last names of people I know, for entertainment value…
Lazy, hazy, crazy days of…late June…
Posted on June 2, 2010 - Filed Under random
I love June. I love playing outside after dinner. I love having the windows open in the house and always the sunroof open in my car. I love riding the motorcycle. I love play dates at the park and eating dinner, even if it’s spaghetti, outside on our seen-better-days patio furniture. I love not having to launder socks or wear coats. I love the absence of static cling and the presence of the smell of sunscreen. I love afternoon showers because we’re so dang sweaty and frozen fruit and loud 60s tunes that make us dance in the front yard.
I love getting together for no reason on a Tuesday night and maybe having ice cream…the motivation to spring for a pedicure more often…wearing skirts and dressing the girls in sundresses…seeing flowers everywhere…occasionally substituting cereal or popsicles for a meal… the porch swing…actually seeing our neighbors…smelling the rain and the mowed grass and barbecue from down the street.
I love blockbuster movies and outdoor concerts and fireworks and catching up on old shows and getting together with old friends. I love sticky little faces and even smelly little feet and trips to the zoo and bike rides to the post office. I love the breeze our attic fan makes all through the house and I love the thought that next summer I will be living in a different home, getting to know what makes for the best lighting and the best place to sit on a lazy night after a bout with insomnia and a busy day.
Oh yes, I love summer with a deep abiding passion. June is not summer-y for us in the recreational sense; it is our busiest month of the year, our play-offs, our finals, our double and triple shifts. But when it culminates, down in our dear Branson in just over 4 weeks, we will be celebrating with a sense of summer and a whole lot of other things…like friendship and accomplishment, unity and excitement, and celebration of gifts from God. I will read this again and count them before we start all over tomorrow.
On the side of the road
Posted on May 28, 2010 - Filed Under faith!, trips
I am not a fearful person. But I have a really, really vivid imagination.
Sunday, on our 4th day of driving (Illinois to Virginia to Ohio to Illinois), Rod finally let me take the wheel for awhile (Note: of the Suburban, not the bus). One of the first things I saw on the left side of 65N in Indiana was a decapitated deer.
Decapitated.
Ew. And ugh…
I am not a fearful driver, but back when I was commuting 100 miles a day, I became a jaded one. People are CRAZY. (Billy Currington might sing the song, but I’ve known this for awhile). I was in four car accidents during those 4 years, and once I was nearly run off the Hillside Strangler (the on ramp from 294N to 290W by a semi-driver). I am not exaggerating here. He was angry because I let a few cars get ahead of me (it’s a horribly designed ramp that goes to one lane with virtually no warning), and he was trying to get around me on the curve while visibly yelling at me. I called his toll-free number, and I am still bitter.
Anyway, those experiences as well as just living in the Chicagoland area (where many of the crazy people are mean, too) have made me cautious about traffic. There have also been horrible accidents in the years since I’ve been paying attention that have occurred while people were pulled over on the side of the highway.
(I’m sure that deer’s accident occurred much that way…)
I hadn’t been behind the wheel for very long when the car started veering side to side. Because I was in the tire business for three years at the beginning of my illustrious and ever changing career, I thought at first we’d busted a tie-rod or something and thrown it out of alignment. (Impressive sounding, yes? I should note here that I have never in my life actually changed a tire or done more than jump a battery or add oil to the engine.)
Rod diagnosed a flat tire, and I navigated us safely to…the right shoulder…the side of the road. Once he confirmed the problem, I wanted to try to make it to the next exit. He didn’t think we could make it.
Naturally, the one time we took a ‘regular car’ on a concert weekend instead of the bus meant that the back was filled with sound equipment, so we (well, Rod) had to take about half of it out to even get to the spare. And then, we needed to consult the owner’ manual for a few details, because these new-fangled vehicles are a little more complicated than those in the days of yore
I got the manual from the glove box, gave it to Rod, and then persisted in the only 3 things I could do to help in this situation:
1) Prayed, pretty much in whatever old hymn popped into my head (“Standing on the Promises” was an important one).
2) Tweeted. My goal was entertain in my moment of distress. (Did I mention I had about 4 sweet teas with lunch? There was distress).
3) Watched for semis. I mean, seriously. It’s a law now in Indiana (and other states, I assume). that when you can, you get over to the left when people are pulled over on the right. I’m not sure what good I thought I would do by starting down every signle vehicle that passed us, but those who could have moved over and didn’t got a serious hairy eyeball from me. That’ll show ‘em.
Rod was able to change the tire with very little drama. I nearly peed myself every time a semi did go by us in the right lane. Man, do those things cause a mighty wind! Unfortunately, seeing them pass by my husband’s head from about 10 feet away did a number on my writer’s imagination. Basically, I could picture him getting run over, me surviving but without any legs, and being left to raise all these kids alone.
Ugh. I can still picture it.
Meanwhile, I stared so hard at the oncoming traffic that I gave myself a headache. I was convinced that if I did see anyone Driving Wonky, I could warn Rod in time so that we could both dive and roll away, likely in slow motion, like an episode of MacGyver or The Fall Guy.
Fortunately, obviously, nothing like that happened.
Rod got the spare on the car (where it still sits. We really need to take care of that, Honey). Then he proceeded to put the jack and everything else together with great care and precision…never mind that we were still on the side of the blessed road or that I Had To Pee. Never mind that at home, my sweet husband rarely closes a drawer all the way or throws away junk mail after he looks at it. The tire jack, though, had to be replaced perfectly at that moment….a true Mars vs. Venus moment if there ever was one.
~
I tell the story jokingly, but the truth is, I was scared. And the truth also is, just the night before in the concert and church service we were in, God confronted me in one of my fears and sorrows, which is the loss of children. And the confrontation left me testifying that our lives here are a small blip, a blink of time’s eye, and though our sorrow might be deep and great, it should not consume us, because there is LIFE waiting in eternity that is far beyond what we have here.
It’s a comforting thought and a hopeful one, but would I be able to hold to it if I lost my husband or child? I never want to know. But in a few moments on the side of the road, imagining the worst, I was expecting something better. And that means I’ve grown in my faith, and for that, I am glad.
Book Review: Emily Giffin, Heart of the Matter
Posted on May 19, 2010 - Filed Under reflections
Emily Giffin’s debut novel, Something Borrowed is my favorite modern fictional read. Period. I love how it shows a balanced, thoughtful, emotional account of infidelity, friendship, and the complexities of turning 30 with unrealized expectations…with flawed characters whose voices and backgrounds are varied and ring true.
It seems, though, that in each subsequent release, the narrators of Giffin’s stories become more cookie-cutter, more self-absorbed, more whiny. In fact, the first few chapters of Heart of the Matter were boring…too much exposition, to much ‘tell,’ flashback, character descriptions. What happened to letting us know the characters by their behaviors and actions? Honestly, I was thrown back to Sweet Valley High when Jessica and Elizabeth’s physical appearances, down to their aquamarine eyes and bronze, 5’6 California frames, were described in detail around page 6 of Every. Single. Book. (And yes, I read them all, thank you).
The storytelling formula of Heart of the Matter is a bit of a rehash of the one-two punch used for Something Borrowed and its sequel Something Blue, in that two characters narrate the same circumstances from their own points of view. In the first person voice we have Tessa, a former teacher married to hot plastic surgeon Nick, who quit her job after her second child was born to be a stay-at-home mom but has little security or joy in her role. She is constantly fretting over the approval of the other frustrated mommies who live in her Boston neighborhood, be it over her children’s store-bought Halloween costumes or what they bring for snack day. OK. Sadly, I admit I can relate a bit to this. But only a little. Tessa’s general discontent is dissected with her friend Cate, who is single and looking feverishly and lives in NYC, of course, and her other friend April, who is a perfect mommy and homemaker and has both a flair for the dramatic and a “bountiful fruit bowl.” I kid you not.
In the third person narrative, in every other chapter, we have Valerie, an attorney raising a 6 year old boy as a single mom, with the help of her gay-and-saintly twin brother and her bitter mom. Valerie, like Tessa, is seemingly attractive, skinny (which I have to believe makes life better), intelligent, and completely incapable of feeling anything but general malaise. Even the portrayal of her reaction to a serious accident involving her son is… yawn-inducing.
The two women are connected by mutual acquaintances and mitigating circumstances that become fairly obvious within the first 50 pages but don’t really get interesting until the last 50.
My first plea upon reading this story: Writers of “fiction for women,” PLEASE stop giving every mommy-protagonist a single BFF who is longing to have what the mommy has. Is it possible that some single women are happy with their lives? Is it possible some married mothers are best friends with… other married mothers? No one needs that cliche character in order to cultivate a random bar/hi-jinks plot excursion. Cate was unnecessary. Completely. (And don’t get me started on Romy. People DO have layers…even rich, entitled ones).
I found the character Valerie, because of what she exposed her child to, to be not nearly as sympathetic as she should have been. I found Tessa to be fairly bland. I found the re-appearance of two of my favorite characters from Gmy favorite Giffin storyline (I won’t name and spoil it) to be very exciting at first…but also… a little vanilla.
Though the story did improve as the pages turned, I am worried that Giffin has shown us all her tricks, kind of like Danielle Steel did with her first 2 or 3 of 8 million novels in which a successful blond woman moves across the country to pursue a man who will simultaneously excite her, call her by the name of a horse (I also plead guilty to friggen loving Palomino once upon a time), and break her heart. We have a lawyer…we have a competitiveness among well-to-do women…we have infidelity of some kind…we have a female character who basically has it all but is inexplicably unsatisfied over conditions she could change if she tried… Oh, and we have twins. (The last is not a bothersome recurring happenstance, but again, we get it. Giffin has twins…)
The relationship between Tessa’s bitterly divorced parents and the culmination of their past was my favorite moment in the book. I also appreciate that The Conflict was handled with sensitivity toward all parties involved; though the Nick’s motivation for The Conflict was not really hashed out, I give Giffin credit for again showing that bad deeds are not necessarily simplistic or malicious ones.
For once, though, I would appreciate a mommy story in which the mommies are not too busy trying to one-up each other and make their kids into organic-Stepford-moppets to actually support and advocate for one another. There was a great passage in the book in which Tessa describes all the things the mommies compare in each other… their husbands, their houses, their effectiveness as parents, the careers they may or may not have left behind, their problems. What I loved most about the passage was that the things listed were all things I discuss with my mommy friends…in a NON-critical or competitive way.
Why is it so hard for female novelists to give females credit?
I will continue to read Giffin, because she created Dex and Rachel and Darcy and Marcus and Hilary…but when the next novel comes out, I might be on the library’s waiting list instead of on the Amazon pre-order…
keep looking »
