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Funny Quotes Laughter

Things I Never Anticipated Saying Before I Became a Mother: #4

"No, mayonnaise doesn't have fiber."


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Other things I never anticipated saying.

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Funny Quotes Laughter

Things I Never Anticipated Saying Before I Became a Mother: #3

"Can we get a dog?" my 4-year-old asked.

"Sorry, sweetie," I said. "Our landlady said we couldn't have a dog."

He was visibly downcast for a moment, then he brightened as another idea occurred to him. "How about an elephant?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

That's when I found myself saying:

"Elephants are too big to live in apartments."


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Other things I never anticipated saying.

Categories
Encouragement

Summer’s Here Again

Summer has arrived in Ukraine. For the last two weeks we've been enjoying sunny weather with temperatures in the high 70s and low 80s (that's the mid to high 20s, for all you Celsius readers out there). Even after living here for eight years, I am still amazed by the change from the dead of winter to the blaze of summer. In January it seems impossible that the earth could ever become warm again, but each June and July I find myself sweating and longing for the cool of autumn. I guess many things in life are like that. Night gives way to day. Tears end, and joy returns. No difficulty is permanent. As it says in the Psalms, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."

Now that summer is upon us, I've been reflecting on this past spring. I would love to hear what things you found interesting during that season. If you're a blogger, leave a comment with a link to your favorite post that you wrote during March, April, or May. (If you're not a blogger, you can link to your favorite post on someone else's blog.) I'm looking forward to reading your favorites! Here's mine.


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Inspiration

Our Best Purchase

About two months ago, a friend offered to sell my husband and me her stationary bike. We weren't in the market for exercise equipment, but we're into fitness (er, well, my husband is into fitness, and I like to think that I am, but all I really do is let breastfeeding, carrying the baby, and refereeing my two older boys serve as my weight-loss and fitness program), so despite the fact that we had to get rid of some furniture to fit the bike in our apartment, we said yes. It's probably the best purchase we've made all year.

My husband loves the efficiency of being able to do a cardiovascular workout without leaving home. (Up until now, his favorite workouts were swimming and playing basketball, neither of which our apartment is equipped to handle.) I love something completely different about the exercise bike. It's revolutionizing my prayer life.

Before the exercise bike, I would try to get up early to have some quality prayer time. But since fatigue is the normal state of existence for a mother of small children, I had trouble staying awake while I prayed. Sometimes, I would try walking around the living room to stay alert, but that usually just made me dizzy. The exercise bike changed all that. Pedaling keeps my mind alert, while being stationary keeps my body balanced, which frees my soul to soar on the wings of prayer. And as my workout increases in intensity, so do my prayers. (All this has made me wonder what the exact relationship is within the body-mind-spirit trinity that defines us, but figuring that one out is probably beyond the scope of this post.)

Besides keeping me focused while I pray, the exercise bike helps get me out of bed in the first place. Some mornings I'm more motivated to pursue physical fitness than spiritual fitness. I know–that's sad. And backwards. But that's the way I am sometimes. So on those mornings when the temptation to doze for a few more minutes is nearly overpowering, the mental image of another me with beautifully toned legs and a resting pulse rate around 60 beats per minute can help lure me out of bed and into my unconventional prayer closet. I climb on the bike, and I'm off. Twenty-five minutes later, I've had at least 20 minutes of aerobic activity, I've burned over 250 calories*, and I've prayed my way around the world, interceding for people and situations both nearby and far away. It's a superb way to start the day.

I recently caught my husband taking a long, appreciative look at me. I arched my eyebrows playfully, and he grinned and said, "You've always had a great figure, but now . . ." Just one more reason to get out of bed at daybreak to ride and pray! What about you? What is your favorite place to pray?

———————————–

* I don't think this number is accurate, but it's what the bike's screen tells me. The bike has 8 different levels of resistance, but I've noticed that it takes exactly the same number of revolutions to burn 1 calorie no matter which resistance setting I choose. Will someone please explain to me how pedaling hard uphill for one minute burns fewer calories than pedaling leisurely on a flat surface for the same amount of time??


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Categories
Funny Quotes Laughter

Things I Never Anticipated Saying Before I Became a Mother: #2

"Don't drop things on the baby."


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Other things I never anticipated saying.

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Laughter

Part-Time Referee

I've never been much of an athlete or sports fan, but I'm finding that as a full-time mom to boys, my job description includes "part-time referee." The games are many and varied, ranging from the expected sword fights, splash wars, and wrestling matches to imaginative games of David and Goliath, Lion and Lion Tamer, and Moses in the Basket, to downright bizarre games like Eat Your Brother, Bite the Baby, and Pee on Each Other (the latter in the bathtub, thankfully). As referee, it is my task to define fair play and enforce it. I make it pretty simple. Regardless of the game, there are only two rules: 1) be kind, and 2) don't hurt your brother. I suppose I could add: 3) don't hurl dense objects, 4) don't use the pictures on the wall for target practice, and 5) don't pretend that the bookshelves are Annapurna and you are mountaineers, but that's pretty complicated for a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old, don't you think?

I loathe yelling and make it a goal not to shout at my children, but often they make so much noise that they can't hear me unless I raise my voice at least nineteen times above its normal level. To avoid sharing my motherly admonitions with the rest of the apartment block, sometimes I'll wade into the fray to get the boys' attention without shouting. However, this strategy isn't practical when I'm cooking something whose recipe includes the words "stir constantly," or when I'm nursing the baby, or (and this is my favorite) when I'm holding the baby over the toilet because he needs to go poop! So in those instances I have two choices. I can temporarily abandon my referee responsibilities (which usually means abandoning my second child to the mercy of his older brother), or I can yell at the boys until they realize that Mommy is saying something and they'd better stop to listen. **sigh** I feel like I've been doing too much yelling lately.

The other day it occurred to me that a referee's whistle might come in handy.

I think I'll ask for one for Mother's Day.

************

What about you? What are you hoping for (or planning to give) on Mother's Day?


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Baby Joys Inspiration

The Source of All Nummy

I love nursing babies. (You can take that any way you want: either that I love to nurse infants or that I love infants who are still in the nursing stage. Both statements are true.) There is something indescribably precious about cradling a baby and watching his blissful contentment as he draws both nourishment and comfort from your breast.

I am currently nursing my third baby, and I always enjoy watching the different stages that they go through. First there is the newborn nurser with downy hair, wrinkled face, and scrawny limbs. He needs help to find the breast, but once he does, he nurses with total focus, eyes closed, jaw working methodically, the rest of his body profoundly relaxed.

Next comes the impatient nurser, who can't seem to tolerate the slightest delay in starting his meal. (Honestly, I don't know how moms cope when they have to rely on formula to feed their babies. Nothing is quicker than whipping out a meal for a breastfed baby, and yet they still get so bent out of shape about the 2.7-second delay. If I had to listen to the desperate wails of a baby waiting several minutes for formula to be mixed and heated to just the right temperature, I think I might snap.) The funny thing about babies at this stage is how they will act as if they don't really want the meal. Many times I have watched in amusement as my little nurser shakes his head violently back and forth, mouth wide open, lips repeatedly grazing the target, but refusing to latch on! Eventually, however, he settles down and contentedly sucks away.

The third stage is the distracted nurser, and the baby I'm currently nursing is in this category. Distracted nursers are old enough that they usually have rolls of fat and the most adorable chubby cheeks. They need no help finding the breast, and they usually get right down to business. However, they are so aware of their surroundings that they can have trouble nursing in an environment that isn't perfectly tranquil. Any noise or movement will provoke a sudden break in suction and a wide-eyed, accusatory stare. Should the mother attempt to multitask by eating a meal or reading a book while feeding the baby, the distracted nurser is likely to respond with cries of protest. And even if everything is ideal, there is one more thing that can distract this type of baby: his proximity to Mommy. He may interrupt his meal simply to gaze up into his mother's eyes and make sweet cooing noises, as if to say, "Mommy, you're so wonderful. You're the love of my life." And, if he's anything like my youngest child, after this precious little exchange, he's very likely to forget about the breast altogether and start sucking his thumb! It's a hilarious picture: there he is, contentedly sucking his thumb, even though it will never give him any nourishment, no matter how long or how hard he sucks, and all the while, the source of all nummy is within easy reach, just a fraction of an inch from his cheek!

I used to tease him gently about this habit until the day I realized that sometimes I'm just like him. Sometimes I seek reassurance, strength, or fulfillment from things that will never truly satisfy. And all the while, God is right beside me saying gently, "Here I am, the source of all you need. Turn to Me."


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Daddy Joys Inspiration

Because I Love You

My husband and I come from very different backgrounds. He was raised on a farm in the middle of nowhere in the American Midwest. I spent my childhood going back and forth between suburban Southern California and the Hawaiian paradise I call home.

He’s a third-generation Christian missionary, while I’m a fourth-generation Japanese American whose maternal grandparents and great-grandparents were Buddhists.

His mother was very involved in his upbringing, since his father had to work several jobs to make ends meet. On the other hand, it was my father who raised me, since my mother died when I was 5.

He has a twin and seven younger siblings, but I just had one sister until my half brother was born when I was 17 years old.

Despite these differences, when we met, we immediately recognized a soul mate in the other. This was because in all the areas that mattered most, we were the same.

We both love Jesus more than anything or anyone. We both are willing to follow the call of God no matter where it takes us. Our highest ambition is that our lives would draw others to Christ. On our wedding day, I had no doubts that I had made the right choice.

However, there was one detail about my husband that remained a secret until after we were married.

He is a football fan.

I could never understand the American male craze for football, or any professional sport, for that matter. Although I’m not athletic, I can understand having a passion for playing a sport, but I always found it absurd that grown men could get excited enough to spill beer on themselves while watching a sporting event. (Okay, I’ve never actually seen that happen, but you get my point.)

My father has never been into sports. I only remember him watching the Super Bowl once, and that was only because at the time we were in the habit of going out for hamburgers each Sunday with a group of other families from church. On Super Bowl Sunday, one of the families hosted the rest of us at their home so that the guys could watch the game. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if my dad actually watched it, because we kids were all running around outside. I do remember him spending some time in the backyard with me after I slipped off the end of the slide and winded myself. If he had been watching the game, he didn’t seem in any hurry to get back to it.

Since I have the deepest respect for my dad, his complete lack of enthusiasm for professional sports became my ideal, and I had little use for any guy who would waste several hours watching a televised ball game. Imagine my dismay when I learned that my husband, whom I respected at least as much as my dad, was an Indianapolis Colts fan! God in His wisdom had not allowed me to discover this trait earlier, because it might have been the end of our romance. But now I was married, for better or for worse, until death do us part, so I knew I had to make the best of it.

Fast forward several football seasons. I now understand the significance of a first down and of sacking the quarterback, and I know when a team might want to do an off-side kick or opt for a 2-point conversion. And though I have always scoffed at celebrity worship, I can recognize the first and last names of the star Colts players, and I even know the name of their former coach. I have to admit it: I’ve become a football fan too.

With the time difference between North America and Eastern Europe, watching the games always involves either staying up really late to see the end or getting up in the middle of the night for the kickoff, but despite the hassles, I still look forward to the start of football season each fall. It’s not so much about the Colts, although if I had to pick a team to support, I don’t think I could find a better one. It’s more about the romance of a shared interest and of doing something slightly crazy with the love of my life. Because I’ll admit it—it’s insane to get up for three hours in the middle of the night when you know that the kids are going to wake you up by 7:30. But I think that a bit of shared insanity helps us remember that we’re best friends and lovers, not just the parents of our (very adorable but sometimes exasperating) children.

….. ….. ….. ….. …..

What about you? What do you do to keep the romance alive with your spouse?


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Categories
Funny Quotes Laughter

Things I Never Anticipated Saying Before I Became a Mother: #1

Since becoming a mother, I have found myself saying things that, taken out of context, sound absurd or even shocking. Sometimes I stop and ask myself, "Did I really just say that??" And then I wonder if anyone overheard me and what they're thinking if they did. So I'm going to give you all a chance to listen in on my sometimes bizarre motherspeak. This is the first installment of Things I Never Anticipated Saying Before I Became a Mother:

"We don't lick the piano."

(I can't decide whether or not to include brief explanations or leave you to imagine the circumstances. What do you think?)


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Other things I never anticipated saying:

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

#7

Categories
Inspiration

Whining

Is it just me, or does anyone else find whining intensely irritating? I mean irritating enough to take a normally calm individual and make her start to hiss through clenched teeth while fighting the urge to slap someone?

Please tell me I'm not alone in this.

My 4-year-old whines. I don't mean that he whines just to get attention or when he doesn't get his way. No. Whining is his default means of communication. I don't know why. Maybe it's a stage. Maybe it's one of his personality quirks. All I know is it's driving me insane, and I've been trying to break him of the habit for about two years, ever since he started to speak.

Maybe it has happened, but I cannot remember a single time when I gave him something because he whined for it. As far as I know, I always point out that he is whining and instruct him to ask nicely. This usually means first rephrasing his request to make it polite ("Can you please give me Curious George?" instead of, "MooOOOooommyyyyyy, eeeuuh, eeeeuuuuh, gimme the mooOOOooonkey book!"). Then he has to repeat it in a pleasant tone of voice. The latter sometimes takes several tries, with me modeling how I want him to sound.

You would think that after two years of this he would begin to get the idea. Whining is useless; I might as well be pleasant and ask politely the first time. But as far as I can tell, this lesson is still lost on him. On second thought, maybe he is starting to get it, because there are rare moments when he will thoroughly bless me with his speech. One day he came into the kitchen while I was cooking dinner and said cheerfully, "Mmmmm! You're good at making food, Mommy! I'm hungry!" I was stunned, and it made me want to clasp him to my chest and give him anything he wanted to eat. But usually he just whines and demands things.

One day in desperation I found myself praying in the middle of dealing with him. My conversation with God went something like this: "Lord, I can't take it any more!! This child is driving me nuts!! Why does he have to be so whiny??" And then it hit me. I was guilty of the same behavior as my 4-year-old. I was whining to God. It was a revelation that caused me to reevaluate my prayers. God is an infinitely better parent than I will ever be, but how often do I approach Him with a whiny attitude as if He does not have my best in mind, does not understand my struggles, and is not going to provide for my needs? He deserves better than that. He deserves the kind of praise and trust of provision implicit in my son's charming comment to me in the kitchen. "Mmmmm! You're good at making food, Mommy! I'm hungry!"


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