(And All My) Work Be Praise

Once upon a time, I loved Kentucky Fried Chicken. I used cream soups liberally. I survived sinus infections through copious amounts of DayQuil.  I kissed many a boy before agreeing to marry one, expected to formula-feed my babies, thought home-schooling families were too weird to explain.  I cleaned everything with bleach or Clorox wipes. I haven't had KFC since before Levi was born. I make my own cream of chicken soup and ration it out of the freezer. [My husband is extremely anti-MSG.  It's second-nature, now, to flip over a can or box at the grocery store and scan ingredients for it (or its counterpart, autolyzed yeast extract).]  Last time I cleaned out the medicine cabinet, all cold medicine went in the trash (or to its appropriate disposal location). [Can't have it during pregnancy anyway, so why re-stock?]  I didn't kiss my husband until our wedding day, am on my second round of nursing a baby, and anticipate home-schooling my children.  ...

Actually, I hate milk.  But Levi loves it.  In fact, he loves it so much that he would be happy not to eat at all, if only he could have cup after cup of milk.  I'm exaggerating, of course -- he does eat almost anything -- but typically, after one or two bites, he's asking for more milk.  I barter with him: take one more bite, and then you can have more milk.  Take two more bites, and then you can have more milk.  Finish these three peas/beans/cheese cubes, and then you can have more milk. Today, I had a flash of inspiration!  I know Levi doesn't really understand what numbers symbolize, so to insist on "three more bites" means nothing to him.  But what if I showed him?  So I grabbed the magnetic numbers one, two, and three off the refrigerator and placed them on the table.  This time, as he took each of the three bites, I removed the numbers in order: "one bite gone!  Two more!" etc.  When the numbers were gone, he got more ...

I have approximately three paper towels left in my house -- individual sheets, not rolls.  I decided some time ago that when this roll was gone, I would buy no more: be gone, paper trash!  Every time I grab a sheet, then, I've been evaluating what I'm using it for, and what cloth product (or, in the case of washing mirrors, newspaper) would work in its place.  I'm pretty sure I've come up with a solution for every paper-towel usage except one: placing meat (bacon and sausage in particular) on paper-towel-lined plates to drain.  I don't make either one very often, but it's an occasional treat that I don't want to give up, and I just can't see me laying slices of bacon on a dishtowel.  What's a girl to do?! (Seriously: I'm open to any suggestions.)

Thanks to the time change, this weekend I have felt the peeling off of another layer of selfishness, and not without some pain. Given the nature of his job, my husband often works evenings in addition to days.  I single-mama it for bedtime at least once a week.  Even when hubby's home for bedtime, he often has to leave again right afterwards, or work at home in the evening hours. For the past six months or so, my toddler has gone to bed at around 6:45pm, give or take 15 minutes in either direction.  For the most part, we've loved it: when Isaac  is available, we have lots of evening time together, and when he's not, I have lots of time to do the things that otherwise don't get done.  The super-early bedtime has been frustrating at times, though, as it has been nearly impossible to take him to evening services at church, or attend an evening Bible study without getting a babysitter, etc. And so it was with much trepidation that we decided not to alter...

(Disclaimer: I am not a biblical scholar.  I worry quite a bit that I'm going to say something here that isn't quite right.  But I'm also convinced that the Bible isn't exclusively meant for theologians and scholars.  "Normal" people like me can and should find that the Word of God has a profound impact on their lives.  So here I go.) I mentioned earlier that I am currently attending a Bible study on Isaiah.  Let me interrupt myself immediately to say: I highly recommend Bible Study Fellowship ( www.bsfinternational.org ).  If you can find one in your area, make a way to get there.  Ask if you want to know more. Anyway, the weekly studies always include a few "application" questions, and over the course of the year, I have found myself answering in the same manner to a number of different questions: "I know I need to be thinking  in such-and-such a way, but I'm not sure what that means I should be doing ." I sensed that some sort ...

Things I did not know about myself before motherhood: --that I would become a slave to my children's nap- and bedtimes --that pregnancy and childbirth would actually improve my body image --that it would be easier to love a child who does not cause physical pain --that I would breastfeed --that I would not love breastfeeding but do it anyway --that I would fluctuate so widely and often between not wanting to leave the house and feeling trapped at home --that I love being pregnant --that it would be far easier to be a mother than a wife --that I would cry the first time I left my oldest with someone else at bedtime What have you learned?