toddler tears

We take a momentary pause in our Ten-themed posts for a brief glimpse into the life and mind of Lucas.

Reason to melt down in blubbery tears #417: You want to name your work of art "The Unusual Scribble Picture" but your 3-year-old mind cannot figure out how to spell "unusual" and your mom is upstairs putting your brother down for a nap...

The best he could sound out was "UHN UZURA" and he knew it wasn't right, so I came downstairs to a sobbing kid bent over his picture saying, over and over, "Mommy, Mommy, I don't know how to do it. How do you spell unusual? Hoooow?" I had such a mix of emotions when I saw him - sadness that my boy was so torn, amusement that this was a crying moment at all, pride that he had made such a valiant and thoughtful effort at such a new and difficult word...

Lucas, you are my ever so unusual and incredibly special little boy. You amaze me every day with your brilliance and goodness and maturity. Never stop tackling the difficult things. Never be afraid to ask for help. Never stop trying. I love you, buddy. So much. All the way to Papua New Guinea and Lichtenstein and back.

ten ways (the he version)

You know the drill by now. Here are 10 ways I'm the same as I was 10 years ago, and 10 ways I'm different.

same:
-I'm still socially awkward. Luckily I have built-in friends at home. And given enough time to get used to people, I do alright having regular human conversations out in the wild.
-I dress the same. Seriously, if I hadn't lost so much weight (see differences below) I'd probably be wearing the exact same clothes. I don't care about fashion or trendiness. I just want to wear what's comfortable and doesn't look terrible. Fairly casual polo or button down shirts for work (mostly lumberjack style shirts lately). Jeans, cargo shorts, t-shirts for not-work. I guess I have more t-shirts without words on them now.
-I still don't like shaving. I've finally found the solution, though.
-I still can't help following politics even though still not one politician represents my views on most topics.
-Pizza is still pretty great (although my toppings are different, see below).
-I spend large portions of the day thinking about math. Really, I spend large portions of the day thinking, period. I'm still pretty quiet and introspective. I also think about my kids, my family, the future, books I'm reading, music, how to solve the world's problems. But math definitely occupies a larger share of my thought-space than it should for a normal person.
-Quotes from Friends, The Office, and Homestar Runner still pop into my head frequently. At least I say fewer of them out-loud.
-I am equally good at juggling. Which is to say, I am still not good at juggling. Lucas likes to watch me, but my (lack of) skills have led to him thinking that juggling is just throwing a bunch of things in the air and watching them all land. He sometimes comes into a room with his hands full and says, "Let's juggle!" and immediately throws it all as high as he can, making no attempt to catch any of it.
-I'm probably too judgmental of people for what appears to me to be lack of thought, reason, or logic, or for other flaws, when I don't know their life or what they go through. And of course my list of flaws is just fine too, thanks, and while (contrary maybe to popular belief) I don't think it's wrong to think things are wrong, it's not my job to find and catalog all of the ways in which other people fail. I'm supposed to love people like Jesus and let Him handle the rest.
-I would still marry Sharayah in a heartbeat. Just because she went first doesn't mean I stole this one. There's no one else out there I could do life with. We are still perfect for each other.

different:
-I'm not balding anymore. I'm just plain bald. I actually think this is an improvement. I'd rank hair amounts as follows: 1: Hair. 2: Bald. 3: Balding. I think balding actually looks worse. What can you do with hair that's still trying to cover your head but obviously failing? It's much better to just be done with it and have a regular bald-guy hair style. I've come to accept my baldness. Turning 30 helped.
-I sleep less, but on a more normal schedule. I spent most of college never sleeping (alternating with crashing for long periods). Most semesters I was on a 6-nights-per-week plan (one semester was 5-nights-per-week), but I made up for it by crashing for over 12 hours most weekend nights. Now I sleep every night, but only 5-6 hours per night.
-I have a real job. I spent too many years to count as a student worker while going through my who-knows-how-many years of education. Near the end of grad school I was essentially doing the same thing I do now, but now I'm officially faculty instead of a grad student. Teaching isn't exactly lucrative, but it's a good job with flexible (though plentiful) hours so I can spend a lot of time with family and we can afford what we need.
-I eat differently. We never eat fast food. Sharayah cooks most days. I eat vegetables. Not all of them, but as far as vegetables go I ate pretty much just corn, peas, and potatoes before, so I've changed a lot. I actually like some vegetables, and I even eat some of the ones that I don't like. You won't find me eating a salad, but still. I also only eat fish and poultry on the meat side. That was actually barely even a conscious decision. Sharayah doesn't want to eat or cook the other meats, and we so rarely eat out, that it sort of just happened.
-I weigh a lot less. I think I'm backwards from the normal way, but my lifetime high weight is actually my wedding weight. I was 215 then. I had been about 205 through most of college. In the first year or two of marriage I dropped to 165 and I've stayed near there ever since. I've never hit 180 again. I didn't really try to lose weight, I just stopped eating at Saga since I wasn't a student and started eating home-cooked meals every day. Probably paying for my own food also helped.
-I don't really spend time on music anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still know enough on my guitar to lead a worship service (key of G, anyone?), but my guitar skills have really atrophied. I guess having successfully woo-ed the girl, I spend a lot less time trying to impress her with my music. This is one of my few changes that I'd like to undo, but having kids has cut out what little guitar time I was spending, so we'll see. I also had been listening to a lot less music, although I've been working on that. I haven't had time to go find new music, but I'm re-listening to my old stuff. Most of it is still good.
-Beard.
-I no longer drink soda or caffeine. I don't know how I did it. I was assuredly addicted to caffeine. All those 2-liter mountain dews didn't drink themselves while I pulled all those all-nighters in college. After we got married, I just decided (maybe she suggested it? I really don't remember) not to buy it anymore. I fall asleep a lot easier, my migraines are gone (though I still get approximately weekly headaches, they're not even remotely comparable to before), and I no longer crave green acidic beverages.
-I'm a much better (picture book) reader. I didn't notice this change, but Sharayah says I wasn't very good at it at first. Now I do voices and everything. It's very dramatic.
-I'm a dad. This is such a deep and profound change that I don't even know how to talk about it in summary form. Like Sharayah said, it gives an entirely new perspective on thinking of God as a Father. It changes all of my priorities. When you're a parent, you wake up every day and decide to put someone else before yourself over and over and over. Obviously as a husband I try to put my wife first, but she doesn't depend on me for her very survival (much as she might argue that point). Kids need you so fully and so innocently, and you are responsible for them in every way. I had no idea what being a dad was until the day I held Lucas. I know I was a dad for a while before that, but Sharayah really took care of all the parenting before he was born. The joy, stress, love, worry, pain, and elation I feel every day from being a dad is quite the emotional roller-coaster for a guy who used to be so even-keel that I wondered sometimes if I even had emotions.

Now I'm supposed to announce our next 10s topic.
Up next: 10 nouns.

ten ways [the she version] part 2

Part 2! Go!

"Ten Ways I am Different From 2008 Me!"

- I am much less sarcastic. Really. I am. I feel like there should be more to say here, but I'm erring on the side of "The less I say, the more true this difference will seem."

- If I get the urge, I can run a mile or two without feeling like I'm dying. This does not sound impressive, I know. But I have never been a runner. The ORU Fun Runs were always a source of inevitable embarrassment for me. So the fact that I can now, ten years/two kids/100 pints of ice cream later, go run a mile or two whenever I want without too much effort is a big deal. A big change. A good change.

- I think I'm significantly less weird. Or, at the very least, I have managed to install a low-functioning filter on my speech and actions. It sometimes makes life less fun and almost always makes life a little less awkward, but it is a change that I am sure the world appreciates. Sometimes I wonder how in the world Jason fell in love with me all those years ago. I was quite the odd duck. Good thing he didn't mind waterfowl.

- I understand God as a Father. This could probably be broadened into its own post all by itself, but I'll try to keep it brief. God has a lot of roles and God as Father is a big one, but I don't think I could ever fully wrap my head around it. In 2008 as a non-parent, I could only attempt to understand this particular relationship through the lens of being the child, and as it turns out, this really didn't give me the full scope of who He was to me. Once I became a parent, it pretty suddenly all made sense. The answer to the question of "Why even make beings who you know are going to mess up and turn from you and hate you?" The magnitude of what He did on the cross. Everything. God as my Father suddenly became a relationship I could completely wrap my head around. It was a neat light bulb moment.

- I am no longer [as bad of] a sympathetic cry-er. Honestly, I'm not sure this counts as a change since I'm pretty sure the stoic, unbidden tears still come if I have to watch an adult cry. BUT, I do not feel the urge to cry at all for, like, 99% of Lucas's and Finley's bawling events, so I think this surely counts as not being an absolute sympathetic cry-er like I feel like I used to be. I can stare at them right in their bright red, tear-streaked, bubbly-nosed faces and not feel even a smidgen of impending tears. Not a drop. And so mark it as progress I will!

- I worry and stress about things so much more. I blame mom-hood 100%. I love a good 92% of the changes that came from becoming a mom, but I dislike this change so.much. The fear of the unknown. The late night What If-ing. The anxiety of things all-the-time, inevitably, falling through the cracks. The stress of not being/doing "enough." It's rough sometimes. I want the best for my kids. I want them safe. I want them to feel loved. I want them happy and healthy and thriving. I don't know why these desires so often translate into worry and stress as that seems rather counterproductive. It is something I am constantly trying to work on [which, ironically, sometimes leads to even more stress...]. Because the bottom line is, I want to give them the best of me. And the best of me can't happen when I'm curled up with a sick stomach over some maybe-down-the-road tragedy. So. There's that. A work in progress I am. [A weird/sad side effect of this change is that I no longer enjoy storms. I used to love the sound of rain pounding away on the roof or the excitement of potentially losing electricity and having to use flashlights. No more. Now all I can think about is, "Will more of our shingles blow off? Will that thunder wake the boys? How am I going to calm the kids/make dinner/salvage the food in the fridge?" No fun at all. Le sigh.]

- I understand eating cheese. I used to think all cheese tasted the same. Cheese is cheese is cheese is meh. Take it or leave it. But now, for better [taste buds] or worse [waistline], I GET CHEESE. I know cheese names. I have a cursory understanding of the cheese-ing process. I can identify cheeses by sight and some even by taste. I'm not any cheese connoisseur, not even close. The fancy cheeses and the moldy cheeses and the cheeses that have names I can't pronounce... I'm still oblivious to their finer qualities and elite statuses. But the normal, everyday man cheeses, I get them. I understand their appeal. I accept that they make life tastier. I stand with you, cheeses!

- I have more self-confidence and can even speak with librarians without wanting to cry. Let's not get carried away here. I don't mean that I can now hold spur-of-the-moment coherent conversations with librarians [or anyone else for that matter] BUT I can approach the circulation desk and make a request without overthinking it for five minutes. My voice no longer quivers [though my volume control is still a bit wonky]. I can even smile and sorta look pleasant while doing it. I realize this probably does not sound like a boost in self-confidence at all, but trust me, it is. This change/progress can even be expanded to include people like cashiers and neighbors and sometimes customer service folks. I won't be able to think of anything to say beyond the initial pleasantries or the customer-to-employee request, but I can confidently carry out those menial tasks without wanting to be swallowed into the ground. Baby steps, I tell you.

- I no longer see a screaming child in the store and automatically think, "What a bratty kid. Man, if I was his parent..." Don't get me wrong, I'm not perfect. And sometimes being a parent now makes me feel like I have earned the right to raise my eyebrows and feel smug that my kid hasn't thrown a fit in public today. And I do often see poor behavior rewarded which instinctively makes me cringe on a good day and secretly judge on a bad day. But more often than not, I hear a wailing kid and instantly feel for the parent. I know what it's like to have a completely irrational child throwing a completely irrational fit and to feel the growing sense of panic or desperation or frustration. "Please, oh please, oh please, just stop screaming." It was interesting how quickly I noticed this change in perspective once I became a parent to the baby who red-faced angry yelled at any unfamiliar face; who seemed to time his cranky, fragile phases around the weeks where we had special outings or get togethers planned; and who took 9 months to smile at a non-family-member. Life happens, and with a kid that often means life happens with so.many.emotions whirling around. An inconsolable child doesn't necessarily mean rotten behavior or poor parenting. Oftentimes it just means a wee one with a missed nap or a late lunch or an irrational attraction to the normal smiley face drawn on the Costco receipt and not a rabbit smiley face. So now, instead of rolling my eyes and hearing snarky comments in my head, I find myself instinctively sending up a quick prayer for grace for the mom. Growth! 

- I can make some pretty good sheep/goat warbles. Also, I have really upped my horse whinny game. Reading books to kids really enhances skills you didn't even know needed to be enhanced. My chicken? I can bawk and cluck with the best of them. My dog? I can woof, bark, bow wow, ruff, arf, and howl. My cat? I can fool Puma. My cow needs more depth. My donkey still leaves much to be desired. My pig lacks that gutteral snort that really sells it. But my caprines? I can do flocks and herds of them, young or old, content or otherwise. I have even been known to sing the alphabet song as a sheep or goat; it's always a big hit. Basically, feel free to book me for your next birthday bash for children 3 and under - I'm as entertaining as a bounce house with a slow leak, and much cheaper.

So, there you have it! Ten more things. What's the takeaway from this post and the last? Let me bullet point it for you:

• Compared to pre-married me ten years ago, I am the same in at least ten largely unimportant ways.
• Compared to pre-married me ten years ago, I am different in at least ten largely unimportant ways.
• It is actually easier to think up differences than similarities.
• I can write forever about nothing in particular.
• I like ice cream.

Jason will be up next with his ten-plus-ten ways. He is also in charge of coming up with the next Ten Years topic, so get excited about that. Now, be on your way whilst I continue to think about ice cream.

my two best differents

ten ways [the she version] part 1

This next installment of our Ten Year themed posts is "Ten Ways: Same and Different." Unsurprisingly, a lot can change in ten years. And surprisingly, a lot can stay the same. We shall attempt to jot down ten of each. Call it a personal evaluation, if you will.

In a shocking turn of events, these ten-plus-ten things got all wordy and out of hand, so my lists will again be separated into two parts. 🙄

Without further ado, "Ten Ways I am the Same as 2008 Me!"

- I cannot whistle. I don't understand what I'm missing. A part of me still thinks whistling is a made-up skill by people who get a kick out of making others look silly.

- I still dread showers. I don't know why. I like to blame my hair and its it-takes-ten-hours-to-dry-because-who-has-time-or-desire-to-blow-hot-air-at-it-for-an-hour-ness. I don't mind the shower once I'm in there, but I dread the entire lead-up time. I will not admit how many days I have procrastinated showering before, but I will say being a mom has only helped extend my All Time Best.

- My dream is still to one day live on a farm. It doesn't have to be massive. It doesn't have to have the whole menagerie of animals. There may only be 7 kids running about instead of 21. But there will be two horses, and Jason and I will ride off into the wooded acres of our property every evening to check on our duck pond. And there will be a few miniature goats. And some laying hens. And our subsistence garden will be filled with tomatoes and potatoes and celery and herbs and pizza. It will be the good life.

- I am not at all interested in politics. Ten years ago, this would have been a perfectly benign admission. Nowadays, I feel like this comment would be met with some amusingly passionate [to put it mildly] reprimands. Oh well, check back with me in another ten years.

- One day I will write a book. I fluctuate on whether I have enough stamina for a novel or if I should keep my oddities to a 20-page children's book. There may not be a publisher. There may not be any allowed readers. The illustrations may be clipped out of the ever-growing file of Lucas's childhood artwork. But there will be a book. One day.

- I cannot chit-chat. I cannot emphasize how bad I am at chit-chat. It is some world-class awkward. It was a toss up to decide whether "I cannot chit-chat" should go in the Same category or if "I am even worse at chit-chat" should go in the Different category. I think I truly am worse at it now than I was pre-2008, simply due to getting better at avoiding situations requiring it which, inevitably, caused my limited skills to atrophy at an alarming rate. But, the awkward result is still the same, so here I will keep it. I promise I do not mean to be rude, world. I just can't chit-chat. I never know where the line between "engaging and interesting" and "too personal and odd" questions lies, so I just sit there. My apologies.

- I still eat Cheerios with apple juice. No shame. It's so good. You have to make sure to use plain Cheerios and not the already sweetened ones or else it will be a disgustingly sweet breakfast. Oh man, I just had a brilliantly delicious idea: Cheerios mixed with applesauce. My mouth is watering. Breakfast tomorrow!

- My sense of style and fashion is so... undeveloped. I have no idea how to develop one's sense of style. I have no idea if I would even want to develop a sense of style given some of today's styles. I feel a surge of pride and accomplishment any time I choose and buy a shirt that isn't a t-shirt. I feel an even greater surge of accomplishment any time I change out of my standard literally-10-years-old t-shirt and pajama pants. [Side note: When I tried to type "pajama pants," my phone decided "island pants" was a better correction. If I had some island pants, I think my decline into Never Ever Change My Clothes would be complete.] I realize how sad this sounds, but I just think of this super lax dress code as a side perk of my work-from-home job. Anyway. I have zero ideas how I would ever be able to change my sense of fashion even if I were interested enough to try. Are leggings still the in thing? Jeggings? Woggings? (...wool leggings?) Suffice it to say, this particular Same is probably destined to never move to the Different category.

- I am meant to be a stay-at-home mom. The days can be long, the crying-over-nothing fits many, the desires to eat tortilla chips while locked in the bathroom only just barely resisted, but this mom-ing business is unquestionably my purpose. It's a little weird how much I doubt my parenting abilities and yet still know I'm doing a solid job of it. I think the confidence comes from the Big Picture of parenting and the doubt comes from the Minutiae Picture. Is everyone alive? Fed? Largely content? Is there growth, both physically and mentally? Is there love? If yes, then, success! Good parent award! You're doing this thing! [Yes, this is what conversations between me and the voice in my head sound like... except there's also a lot of indecipherable mutters and resigned sighing and "ugh, whatever" grunts...] It is only when I allow myself to microscopically examine an area that I start getting the what-if-I'm-a-terrible-parent sweats. Do I allow too much free play? Am I not encouraging enough outdoor play? Am I introducing foods too early? Too late? Am I enabling a bad habit just for the sake of a few minutes of peace and quiet? Am I not giving enough hugs? Am I being too stern? Should I have more varied activities/foods/learning opportunities? Maybe I should Pinterest more things? Maybe I should take a course in time/life/child management? It's endless. And it's easy to say, "There's no one answer, no one solution, no one perfect way to handle this situation, so just do your best," but it's an entirely different matter to stop the wondering, the self-badgering, the "let me google just one more thing." It's hard to shut my brain off when I get on a kick about something. But, bottom line, I am meant to do this thing. Hold hands. Give haircuts. Excavate boogers. Ask God for peace. Learn more about cotton pickers than I ever thought I needed to know. Take pictures. Wipe tears. Answer 38 whys before breakfast. Make up goofy songs. Beg God for patience. Sing goofy songs so much they start feeling like real songs. Keep a straight face in the face of you-can't-make-this-stuff-up toddler-isms. Compliment ragged stuffed animals on their cleanliness. Take spontaneous walks to the park. Love through the screaming and hiccuping and whining. Thank God for joy. This is my life. It is an extremely tiring but incredibly fulfilling life, and it is one I know 100% I am meant to live.

- I would marry Jason again in a heartbeat. I feel this should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway. The ten year anniversary is a triumph that a good number of marriages never achieve. And even though it has been pretty easy for us, I know it hasn't been for a good many others. So I do feel this tenth Same is a notable one. Jason is hands down the best friend, husband, father to my boys, killer of bugs, eater of questionable homemade meals I could have ever married. Hindsight is 20/20 they say, and looking back it is quite, quite clear that I could not be living the best version of my life right now if I hadn't said "I do" on that grossly hot Texas day nearly ten years ago. He is the rice to my sushi. He is the sandbag to my hot air balloon [though I promise I will never jettison you from my gondola, love]. He is my Same, whether it is ten, twenty, or fifty years out.

The exhilarating Ten Differences coming up next! Exhilarating, I tell you.

my same, forever