10 January 2009

What manner of boy art thou?

I guess I should be glad that some people think it “cute” when I have to remind the boys to use their manners on certain occasions (read: any and all public occasions). Personally, I find it mortifying. :P

What would Polite Elephant do?

I grasp at straws of progress on this front. BoyOne often remembers to hold the door (just long enough so that it catches my hip instead of my nose). And upon hearing of a social engagement that was to his liking, he immediately volunteered, “I’m going to bring all my manners. I’m going to bring one hundred of them.” His little brother added, emphatically, that he was going to bring TWO manners. In his pocket.

They get better, right? Right???

09 January 2009

But I have this against them

These lame-o babies never laugh at my really good jokes. Instead they think incredibly stupid things are funny. I might as well just put a pot on my head first thing every morning and call it a day.

08 January 2009

The soft sexism of low expectations

One easy way to score points with chicks is to be the burly man-hero who is willing to put his foot down and say how cruel, dangerous, and oppressive it is to expect women to bear children beyond current standards of normalcy. Oh, brave sir! My feeble body and spirit thank you as best they can, considering their weak voice and will!

Or another tack is to point out how demeaning perpetual parturition is to women. What are they, breeder sows? Aren't they good for anything else? Who are you Zinjanthropoi who keep impregnating your wives? My wife is so lucky to have married someone who respects her!

How clever. What a marvelous life of freedom you've won for your wife! She can work and support your golf habit! You'll have to go out to restaurants since she won't have time to cook things you don't like that much! She won't have any excuse for turning you off by being chubby! You won't have trouble finding or affording a babysitter for your socially acceptable number of children! If only my own husband were so enlightened, I could be putting in applications at fast food joints right now as my youngest child's first birthday approaches.

From Father Rolf: "To assert the headship of man while deliberately disconnecting it from the blessing of the fruitful womb is pure male chauvinism." It's a selfish abuse of power for Christian men to encourage women out of their vocation rather than in it. Such talk makes motherhood sound like a nothing but a degrading, dangerous, excruciating humiliation to be endured as rarely as possible. Leave the farrowing to those bulky stupid chicks who apparently can't feel pain or boredom.

Safety first! Out of that childbed, you!

No wonder women are afraid to start up or keep at it. Frail self! It's a miracle I've survived this long. Heaven forbid that anyone should speak of maternity as the birthright and ontological glory of Eve's daughters rather than as a sentimentally appealing hobby if pursued in moderation. We wouldn't want to inspire women to challenge and discipline their bodies and minds for the growth of the Kingdom, not to mention their own personal benefit. Blathering about compassion and respect from the pseudo-empathic high ground is nothing a but a temptation for me to say, "I've multiplied, I've brought forth children in pain. Where'd those scissors get to?"

Whenever I hear a man bemoaning the plight of women suffering under the hypothetical yoke of fertility-span childbearing, or scorning it as debasing to women, I must mortify my foot's uncharitable desires. You want to cry, dude, or show off your bioethical sensitivity? Try talking to someone who with God's help defied her fear and pride, and by God's grace proved her self-doubt wrong. Ask a real mother of seven about her real scars, instead of dreaming up trials that some rhetorical woman might face if she got pregnant again. See how much your tears and broad-mindedness mean to a person who's done what you imagine to be so horrible. My guess is that she'd rather have your praise, and an hour to herself while you play with the kids--which she'll probably use for indulgent pursuits like saying her prayers and then washing the dishes with no one howling into her pants leg. Spare us the speeches and make yourself useful for once.

Poor, fragile, oppressed women, both too weak and too good for the work for which our bodies were designed! Thank goodness we have men around to save us from it. Can I get you a drink, dreamboat?

06 January 2009

More Gold

“Could we wish to skirt a wood where our Master waited to give us a word to lighten the dark woods of others? No, not even now, while the pressure is upon us, would we choose, if we might, to escape from this which is but for a moment, and which worketh that which is eternal.” (Amy Carmichael’s Gold by Moonlight, 109)

Not out of the woods yet? Out of the woods only to find yourself squishing about in the Slough of Despond? You’re not alone. Others are there too. Better yet: others have been there, have gotten out, and have brought with them a word from the Master that can lighten your way, even help you find the way out. You who are seeking His will and His Word: your suffering—inane or mundane though it may seem—does have a purpose. And maybe you can reach back and haul along the girl who’s still a few steps behind you.

I’m eternally grateful, for instance, that Rebekah didn’t brush me off like the hopeless whining idiot I was (am) back in the day when I started asking her all my clueless first-time mom questions, even though her 18 month head start on me in this CSPP business had already put her in a different league. And that she and Gauntlets still put up with me so graciously, even though by now I should know and be oh so much better. And that y’all in blogdom share your thoughts and your stories too, both here and over at your own places.

Ok; this warm fuzzy is ending already. But it’s COLD n’west of nowhere lately, y’know? Thinking warm thoughts helps. :)

Resolved: to know nothing EXCEPT

Reading Amy Carmichael’s Gold by Moonlight, I found the original context of that quote I’d recently encountered. In the preceding paragraph, Carmichael tells of someone who’d received a timely “word” at a moment of provocation:

“At that moment this came: ‘See in it a chance to die.’ The word was spoken inwardly, but it was far more clearly heard than many a word addressed to the outward ear. See in it—in this provoking, in this that should not have been—a chance to die to self and the pride of self, to that in you which would strike in self-defence. See in anything that rouses you to claim your ‘rights,’ even to see them or to consider them at all, see in it a chance to die. Welcome anything that calls you to your only true position, ‘I am crucified with Christ’” (87).

The first provoking of this morning: the two-year-old "forgot" to make timely use of the proper receptacle for solid human waste. "Welcome" wasn't exactly the first word that came to my mind. Good thing there's still a lot of 2009 left. :P

05 January 2009

Pastors can't be choosers

And neither can their wives. Wir sind Bettler.

A hazard of being a housewife is that you're concerned with household nutrition and read magazines underwritten by advertisers. After a few minutes with Martha Stewart Living or even Better Homes and Gardens, you're suddenly asking why Aldi doesn't carry Greek yogurt and blood oranges and edamame and spelt.

Then factor in The Leftovers. I'm not talking about yours. I'm talking about that stack of bleached refined flour pancakes that came over from the church breakfast or a post-potluck troughload of 100% prefab ingredient mostaccioli. Am I going to toss all that food in the trash because my family is too elite to eat it?

I'm concerned about health, but by golly, we have to live within our means. The occasional infusion of pancakus vulgaris isn't going to kill anyone, and a free meal is a big deal when you're feeding a lot of people. My grocery budget just can't rock out with a food snob or "health" snob shopping list. Once you're moving through six+ gallons of milk a week, you start thinking pretty hard about whether you're going to pay $14 or $30 for it. Maybe we're just lucky that we don't make up the difference in doctor's visits and prescriptions, or maybe somebody has a vested interest in convincing people that they need to pay $3.49/lb for peaches in the middle of peach season.

The good news is that being home allows you the time to negotiate an agreeable middle road. Our potatoes will never be from Urban Haute Foodery* or even Petite Bourgeois 'N Save, but they're not from a box either. Everybody loves to talk about the sacrifices the poor pastor's family makes. Well, amaranth is a privilege, not a right. Set your heart on things above, and your table with what you can afford, which probably won't be that hard on your heart anyway if you put some time into it.

*Don't sweat it. By not shopping at Whole Foods, you won't be bankrolling employee abortions covered by the company's health insurance provisions. Also, did you know that this bastion of enlightened liberalism won't allow its workers to unionize? :D

03 January 2009

Ah, Sovereign LORD!

For you NIV lovers out in Rio Linda, the Procreative Lutherans invite discussion of the proposition that God is your anti-anti-contraceptive.

Girls gone child

Rumor has it that the noxious sight of breastfeeding mothers has been upsetting you teenybopping Facebookers. I vaguely recall some comments around here about those famous "obnoxious breastfeeders" we all love to hate--you know, the gals who remove their shirts entirely to feed a baby (or, more likely, a tween) and decorate the spare with a tasseled pastie just to offend you. Man, if I had a dollar for every time I ran into one of these people . . . .

I'm shy. I usually use a blanket cover and/or a nursing top when I'm going to be feeding out and about. If I'm with people with low nursing exposure or tolerance, I find a private room. But I operate this way because that's my personality, not because I think it's the right way to do it. I'm not worried about offending someone, I'm worried about someone offending me by not giving me the space I prefer (all it takes is one ogling redneck in a mid-Missouri Taco Bell parking lot to send me diving for cover). I fall into that category of females who don't cruise locker rooms in skivvies or less. Or publicize photos of herself feeding her kid. Or take such photos in the first place. I digress.

"Smokey, how many times do I have to tell you to put that *$&# camera away?"

Some girls just aren't shy and don't take the extra coverage/sequesterage measures that I do. They aren't trying to make a political statement with their matter-of-fact feedings any more than I am with my mummy approach. They're just living their lives, and I don't have a problem with it. I think it sets a good example by normalizing breastfeeding. In pondering this topic, I realized I'd rather have my kids see a mom nursing not-so-discreetly in real life than a Victoria's Secret billboard. Why? Because one is meretricious, and the other isn't. Seeing breastfeeding helps my kids, boys and girls, contextualize female anatomy appropriately.

Disrobing to make a political statement is tactless. An unclothed person is distracting to any other person, regardless of the sexes of either of them, so there are always some discretionary measures to be taken (take the tassel off the pastie for t-ball games). But it's ridiculous to get ticked off at mothers for not wanting to feed their little sweatlings under blankets on an 85 degree day when all the other women in sight are exhibiting endowments of varying merits in halter tops. Why should we let Victoria's Secret win and concede all our mammary goodness to the pervs? And by the way, your husband isn't looking. He's too embarrassed. See? The system works!

Ok, but how do I feed the baby in it?

My personal suspicion is that women who are offended by other women breastfeeding are those who, for whatever reason, haven't breastfed for any amount of time. Breastfeeding weirded me out until I was always doing it. You can't be weirded out by your own way of life.

So I defend my freedom to nurse on the sly, although the lactivists may call me a sellout. And I salute the moms out there who aren't as inhibited. Represent away.

02 January 2009

Feeling compelled to state the obvious

They're just so . . . NEEDY . . .

And so. . . CONSTANT . . .
Time to buy more rum, eh?

01 January 2009

Everything explained



Q: Why is the rum always gone?

A: New Year's Eve (see also: depleted Coke supply) :D