The {New} New Year

“May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ” (2 Thessalonians 3:5 ESV).

This is the verse I keep coming back to after a long, emotionally stressful and physically demanding summer.

Over the last few months I learned that adrenaline is effective only as long as I don’t sit down, that the iPad is a less than ideal but functional babysitter, and that emotions are amplified a thousand times when expressed or interpreted under pressure.

I’m so glad it’s over!

The other day I read a post – I wish I could remember where – by a guy who thought of Fall as the real New Year’s Day, the launch of all things new and possible.

I whole heartedly embrace this idea and officially declare a new beginning!

I never again want to experience a season like I did this summer. Not because of the circumstances – because I’m sure those will come up again – but because of how I walked through it. Reflecting back on the summer, I see how my heart was directed toward so many things other than toward the love of God and the steadfastness of Christ.

Instead, my heart was directed toward formulating the perfectly worded email, making the budget work despite all our expenses, and relying on my lists and calendar to keep me sane. These things are important for good stewardship, but none of it will bring me peace and rest like a heart directed toward the steadfastness of Christ.

Fall brings back a natural rhythm to our lives and provides an opportunity to reset priorities. I’ve never been more excited to see 6am than I was this week when I sat down in my favorite chair to read my Bible, alone in a quiet apartment, watching the sun rise.

Thank you, Jesus, for new beginnings.

Snow White and Her Wisdom From Above

We saw Snow White and the Huntsman this weekend. It was beautifully filmed, and the story was engaging even though you know how it all ends. I highly recommend it, and it’s at the cheap theater now.

Stories like these make me sad, though. I want to see myself in characters like Snow White – graceful, kind, wise beyond her years, even after living in a prison tower for ten years.

But most of the time I see myself as the witch – controlling, bitter, vengeful. It’s depressing, really, how wicked my heart is, and how my inner struggle with selfish ambition, as stated below, affects all my closest relationships.

Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. James 3:13-18

Oh the irony for us control freaks who desire to organize the world around our wants and cravings! In the end, our ambitions will only lead to broken relationships and chaos.

I may not be the kind and tender hearted Snow White, but I’m thankful that my wickedness will not be my undoing, thanks to Jesus, who died the ugly death of the witch in my stead.

Death by Packing Tape

We moved last week…

(and over the weekend, and during this whole week, and again this weekend)

(it’s a long story)

…and because I am cheap about weird things, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a tape gun I’d only use once.

(like maybe twenty bucks?)

(see what I mean about weird things?)

It seemed rational at the time because I hadn’t moved in almost 9 years, and why else would I need a tape gun??

So I packed a bazillion boxes by tearing the packing tape with my teeth. Bryan used a pair of scissors, but I didn’t have time for silly accessories to slow me down. I packed WAY more boxes than he did.

At any rate, as I’m winding down the packing-palooza and considering all the packing tape I’ve gotten stuck in my teeth, I was reminded of this very untimely Death by Cheap Envelope Glue, and it had me a little worried.

Is packing tape toxic??

squished like a bunny

Photo Credit

This morning on my way home from the store, a bunny ran into the road a little ways in front of me. I let up on the gas a little to give it time to cross, but it saw me coming and froze in the middle of the road, staring at me.

It was crouched in the bunny version of the fetal position.

I stopped and waited while it gathered its cojones and finished crossing the street, but it made me realize I’m just like that bunny. Squirrels and birds are quick witted enough to get out of the way (most of the time), but in the face of danger that bunny was all, “OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHWHATDOIDOOOOOO?!”

We’re moving two weeks from today, and I need your help. But before you avert your eyes from meeting mine you should know WE HIRED MOVERS, so I don’t need that kind of help. But if you’re one of my peeps and have a few hours to spare on the morning of August 1st, I would love for you to come over.

The overarching category of help I need is HELPING JEN KEEP HER SHIT TOGETHER. Details include:

Telling Jen what to do when she is overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to do next, because THE DETAILS! THE DETAILS ARE BLINDING ME.
Helping to pack up and gather all the last minute things that didn’t get done by 3am the night before (DETAILS!).
Loading smaller and/or fragile things into available cars. Items might include lamps, garden pots, and my underwear drawer.
Making sure Jen (and the family, but mostly Jen) is fed. You don’t want to see Low Blood Sugar Jen.
Comforting Jen during random outbursts of crying because we’re moving even though the new place is totally awesome.

The movers are scheduled to come after lunch, which gives us the morning to get everything organized for them.

Also, pray for my sanity. Bryan is on a shoot this entire weekend for the Capital Hill Block Party, and he has another shoot the night before we move.

BUT EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE OKAY.

(right?)

*splat*

Friday Link Love: The Relocation Edition

Because I have our August relocation on the brain this week, I pulled together a few links in that vein.

Can I Get Your Help?

Bryan wrote a lovely post about our move, and also mentioned specifics re the help we need renting out our house.

—

Why Technology Is Driving More Urban Renewal

A colleague sent Bryan a link to this article in relation to a project they’re working on. When they bumped into each other the other day, Bryan said, “It’s funny you should mention that article, because we just signed a lease so my family could move into the city.”

Crazy, right?

—

A Playground Renaissance Arrives At Seattle Parks

Considering we’re moving to the Seattle Center neighborhood, I was very excited to hear of plans for a playground there.

425 in a 206 world

Remember the 646 area code episode of Seinfeld? Back in the day all the native New Yorkers had a 212 area code, so if you ended up with a 646 you were clearly a newbie to the city.

After Elaine’s number got changed to a 646, new guys she met wouldn’t call her!

I think Seattle feels the same passion for its 206 area code, and I’m feeling a little insecure about my 425 number. Will I be taken seriously in this town??

Case in point:

Her: “And we can connect your building security code to a local 206 number and you just buzz people in!”

Me: “What if I have a 425 number?”

Her: “Unfortunately we can’t connect it to a long distance number. It has to be local.”

I felt like Elaine in that video: “But it’s not long distance, it’s just different!”

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…

top right corner

We sign a lease today – our first lease in ten-ish years. We committed to living here after spending about fifteen minutes inside the condo, which is about how long I spent in my house before deciding to buy it.

Sometimes you just know.

Or at the very least, you don’t want The One to get away.

So in August we move from a home we own to a condo we’re renting, and we’re paying more money to live in less space.

The property manager was very curious about this. “Wait, you own your house?” she asked, looking at my rental application. Under “current landlord” I’d put “me!” and a smiley face.

If I’m going to do something crazy, I might as well use emoticons.

“Why?”

All she said was why. Not Why are you moving, or Why are you renting, or Why are you doing this all bass ackwards?

The way she asked, Why? was shorthand for, What the hell?

Okay not really. She was super nice and most of this conversation took place in my head, but she did ask why we were moving.

“Because we want to live in the city,” I answered. And she seemed content with that.

Scraptastic

I used to be a scrapbooker, which I’m sure conjures up a variety of assumptions on your part. It does for me, as I used to watch HGTV and I know how crazy those crafters can be. They have entire rooms filled with craft supplies! Oh the luxury!

*cough* Nancy Jean *cough*

I did not have a room in my house dedicated to scrapbooking, nor did I spend thousands of dollars on paper, tools, and accessories. I mostly bought cast off paper on clearance and slapped things together while I watched American Idol.

I don’t discriminate in my hackery, people. I do everything half-assed.

Every once in awhile we sit down to look through Ruthie’s 1st year baby book, which I scrapped. Notice the subculture language I used there? Scrapped? That means I made her babybook via scrapbooking. Crafters have all kinds of cool lingo like that. It’s pretty spectack.

Every time we go through Ruthie’s book, Thomas will say, “Okay, MINE NOW!” and I have to quickly think of a diversion like, “LET’S HAVE ICE CREAM!” or “HEY, WAS THAT AN EARTHQUAKE I JUST FELT?” or “THOMAS, I THINK YOUR BLANKIE’S ON FIRE!”

I was pregnant with Thomas when I started this blog, and my step father died right before he was born. I spent most of Thomas’ first year slipping in and out of grieving, post partum depression, and sleep deprivation. Writing became a soothing salve that stitched the holes of my sanity back together, and scrapbooking as a hobby fell to the back burner.

And besides, it was in no one’s best interest at that time that I play with sharp objects.

Seven years later, I bought a Groupon for Shutterfly with the intention of finally creating Thomas’ 1st year baby book. All his photos are digital anyway, so it made sense to make use of all these online scrapbooking-like tools.

Some things never change, though. For instance, I’m still a hack. I procrastinated this until the Groupon was about to expire, so it was put together with love around one in the morning.

No one ever accused me of being a perfectionist.

But the coolest part is, I get to over share my son’s first year like I over share everything else about my life. So here you go should you be interested… my son’s first year in pictures:

Click here to view this photo book larger

Create your own personalized photo books at Shutterfly.com.

I should point out that my kids were fascinated by how nice everything looked in our house. Especially the deck. It reminded me that I’ve been saying for about six years that we need to re-seal the deck. It’s so bad now that I make my kids wear shoes so they don’t get slivers.

And the yard? Yeah, we used to have grass. In fact, recently my kids were picking up trash in a patch of grass in Belltown, which is in the middle of the city, and Ruthie said, “Our yard used to look like this. We used to have grass.”

My poor kids. They don’t have grass, but at least they have scrapbooks.

It Smelled Much Better Back Then

Where the blankie addiction was born.

I’m a bit late with this news, but SURPRISE! I have a 7 year old!

This is probably the last opportunity I’ll take to embarrass my son publicly about his blankie, so here are six fun facts about Thomas and his blankie:

Thomas doesn’t like his blankie to get warm, so you are not allowed to sit on it or pack it in the bottom of a suitcase.
Thomas refers to his blankie as a person. As in, I CAN’T FIND HIM! This is one of many not-cute things about a 7 year old still having a blankie.
When he was a toddler, the blankie was getting a little warn so I bought him a new, identical blankie. He never knew the difference.
Thomas hates it when I wash his blankie, but if I don’t tell him, he doesn’t seem to notice.
A couple years ago we briefly lost the blankie and he managed to sleep without it for several days. When we found it, some crazy person impersonating a sane woman gave it back to him.
Every once in awhile when Thomas isn’t looking, Bryan tears off part of the blankie and throws it away. He never seems to notice, so I figure one way or another we’ll be done with this thing soon (Shshshs… don’t tell him).

UPDATE:
I drafted this post almost two months ago. Since then, Thomas lost the blankie again, and it still hasn’t turned up. He’s doing just fine without it, but since I have no idea where it is either, I’m afraid he’ll find it first and get reattached.

We are living on the edge, people.

Summer Reading Rocks!

Last week we stopped in to our local UW Bookstore and signed up for their Summer Reading Rocks! program.

Most reading programs ask kids to record the amount of time they spend reading, then after 500 minutes (or whatever) they get a prize.

My crew acts like that’s such a chore, and it makes me feel like a nag!

I like the Summer Reading Rocks! program because they count how many books the kids read, and right off the bat my kids we’re ALL OVER that challenge.

We go back for prizes after every five books they read, plus we got a coupon for 20% off any children’s book.

And the best part is they get these awesome lanyards to keep their reading logs in! Now maybe they’ll stop stealing mine.

Friday Link Love

What Every Husband Should Know About Stay at Home Moms
I think the title for this post could be stronger. If I hadn’t seen the link posted by folks I respect, I would never have clicked.

That said, it’s a great post that encourages husbands to support both the outer chaos and inner chaos his wife faces daily. Sometimes we need help clearing the outer clutter before we can face the deep well that is our inner thoughts.

I’m thankful for a husband who supports my outer chaos and pastors my inner chaos well.

Etan Patz, My Children, and Me.
This article resonated with me. I grew up in a neighborhood with tons of kids, and we ran wild until after dark. I miss those days. Now I get dirty looks from parents when I allow my kids to play unsupervised in the neighboring parking lot.

She’s right in that we live in a culture of fear and anxiety that is largely based on perception. In reality, out of 800,000 children who disappear each year – a staggering number, by the way – only 115 are taken by strangers. Even one child taken is too many, but the point is, there is likely not a monster on the corner waiting to gobble my child.

Thoughts On Turning 30 In the Tech Biz
Well written thoughts by Donald DeSantis that apply to any age. These last couple years have been all about The Crazy, and I regret nothing.

soft in the middle, hard in the head

April 2012

According to the goals I set for myself earlier this year, I should have lost 23 pounds by now. I have not lost 23 pounds.

I was not depressed about this until I saw recent photos of myself.

When I imagine how I look, I don’t see myself as this…curvy. If I catch a glimpse in a shop window or see a photo, there’s a brief moment of surprise as I reorient myself to reality. Do I really look like this?

Here’s an example of how I imagine myself to look…

January 2001

…cute little cardigan, skinny waist, sexy long neck, and petite little arms.

I know how I got here, but the thing I’m finally allowing myself to admit is that I might never go back. I’m 40, I had a couple kids, I have a desk job, I drink a lot and love to eat good food.

And let’s face it, I don’t have the against-all-odds kinda will power that people make documentaries about. Sometimes the need to wear pants is a roadblock to my day. So, while it’s technically possible for me to lose 40lbs, I guess maybe I just don’t want it bad enough.

It’s much easier to write this whiney blog post from the comfort of my wifi-enabled bedroom.

Jesus Is Bigger Than The Pile I’m Standing In

Life is good at the ZugHaus. Not rainbows-and-puppies good, but I-have-a-basement-during-a-tornado good. I’m continually encouraged that Jesus trumps All Things Shitty, which leads me to complain less when circumstances are less than desirable.

Our car broke down again, for instance. We were on our way home from the Folk Life Festival – tired, hungry, thirsty, and cranky. We have a knack for breaking down late on Sunday afternoons, by the way.

Untitled

Usually I’m a glass-half-empty kinda girl, and I’m also likely to complain that the glass has a piece of food stuck to it or is the wrong color. “Fuck you and your stupid glass metaphor!” is what I often think (and occasionally say out loud).

But I can’t deny the miracle that is happening in my heart. Specifically, the miracle that happened in my heart as we sat on the side of the road while I tried to keep my kids from running onto the highway. As my mind clicked through all the events our car was needed for in the coming week – a school play, hauling video gear to an event, grocery shopping – my heart kept not freaking out.

Untitled

The miracle in my heart that week was not that I saw the glass half full for once, but that I found it SO AMAZING THAT I HAVE THIS AWESOME GLASS!

At the time, I didn’t know how the week was going to come together, but as it played out I realized…

I got to snuggle on the bus commute home from an event with Bryan
We got to ride the bus as a family to a school event, and my kids thought they were on a roller coaster adventure
A friend was able to serve and bless our family by replacing the broken hose in our car
Grocery shopping became a social event when a friend let me tag along with her to the store

When I’m in my Eeyore mindset I see those things as burdens, not blessings; disruptions, not adventures. But a changed perspective and open heart made a stressful week so much more fun.

I’m curious… How has your perspective toward shitty circumstances been challenged?

This Is the Face Thomas Makes When He Catches Me Taking a Picture of Him.

Momageddon: The Helpful Advice Edition (please disregard).

Sometimes I get really clingy about my advice books. As a new mother, I remember frantically reading every book about sleeping babies while nursing a 6 week old who decided to stop sleeping. I was frantic, and exhausted, and livid that she was not sticking to The Plan.

The Plan which included sleeping.

I was so beyond the end of my wits that I wasn’t even reading books straight through. I was skimming chapter titles and bolded sentences, and copying bulleted lists and charts with pen on paper.

My brain became like those videos on David Letterman where they edit together random words from a speech so it sounds like a Presidential candidate says, “I bork Sarah Palin every Thursday.”

Recently I read a couple books that were helpful and encouraging to me as a parent, but I found myself hoarding facts again like I tend to do. Only now I’m older and displaying signs of hereditary dementia and start to panic because I can’t remember what to say when it’s the moment of truth and I need to say something really… parental.

A few weeks ago as I contemplated making a list or pie chart to help me remember a few methods (has anyone seen Memento? Reminder tattoos, anyone?), I started approaching despair again as I wondered how I would keep it all straight.

And then it hit me: Jesus has already given me everything I need to raise my kids.

I’m not dissing all the practical knowledge available in books, but I was giving methods more weight than grace. I realized that practical teaching is a great supplement, but what I really need to do is read my bible & pray for wisdom, get over my fear & selfishness, and teach my kids about Jesus.