Welcome to Mommy's Toy Review Story!

For about a year now, Mal has been watching Ryan's Toy Review (although, lately, he's been branching out; in part because we finally broke down and got Netflix). Our policy on "screen time" (though I cringe at that pretty useless label) is that we don't suggest it, but we don't refuse it. When Mal wants to play Angry Birds or watch videos or whatever, he can. But he always asks, mostly because he asks us to do EVERYTHING for him. 

Anyway, a few months ago, I got into the habit of, when he'd say, "I want to watch Ryan Toys Aview," I'd use my fingers to draw a box around my face and say, "Welcomes to Ryan Toy Review!" (which is how Ryan, as a young child, recorded the opening). Then I'd hum the opening ditty, and repeat his mom's eternal entree: "Hey, Ryan! What are you doing today?"

At that point, I'd start making up silly little stories that would usually end with disaster, and Mal would say, "NO! I want to watch it on my computer!" But, over time, it changed to, "Do another one!" That morphed into sometimes close to an HOUR of "Do another Ryan's Toy Review!" This is one reason that, as a parent, you should never start anything that creates work for yourself. Rookie mistake.

We have several versions: the original, Brian's Toy Review (which I said mostly to annoy Mal, but he started liking), Mal's Toy Review, and, as of this morning, Alien's Toy Review.

Today, in fact, Mal followed me around the house while I cleaned the kitchen and both bathrooms, just to hear more toy review stories. At one point, we started out with Mal's Toy Review, and in that story, he was training to be a NASA astronaut, planning to test the effects of space on the growth of a child. While he was in orbit, he met an alien. That morphed into his actually pretending to play with an alien, showing it around his room and sharing the alien food with me. After that, we transitioned into the Alien Toy Review, which wasn't in English and didn't tax my brain as much as actually creating a somewhat coherent story was doing.

I was thinking the other day about how different Mal is from D at his age. D was already creating like crazy at this point: painting, crafting, making things out of paper, etc. Mal just isn't into that. He doesn't color. He doesn't really use markers or pencils or pens. He creates by playing very imaginatively. And he "directs" when he has other people playing with him. Nicely, he likes to construct at scene and have it carried out. More honestly, he's bossy. "Say this" comes out of his mouth often. 

Also, D would sit for hours having me read aloud. In fact, I'd have to beg off after chapters and chapters so I could give my voice a break. Mal has a couple of go-to books he enjoys exploring, but they're mostly pictures that he likes to see. In the past few weeks, he's pulling out some fun Sandra Boynton board books, and has asked me to read Mater's Backward ABC book a couple of times in a row.

Now that it's getting warmer, I'm trying to keep Mal outside and in the sun as much as I can handle, in order to have him absorb that vitamin D. This whole week is supposed to be cloudy and rainy, but this weekend was awesome.

On Saturday, Mal swam for a couple of hours at my parents' hotel, and while he didn't go to sleep until 10 PM, he only woke up once during the night (he still took an hour or so waking several times to wake up, but I don't consider it night-waking once the sun is coming up). Then Sunday, yesterday, we went on a walk which ended up as a lake visit (his choice) and in addition to just being outdoors playing, he actually walked 1.23 miles!

He'd asked me to bring a stroller or his bike, but I'd found a "secret" trail (formerly unbeknownst to us) that is super close to our house and that attaches to the Canyonlands trail shown above. It's not laid out like the official trail, and we couldn't have gotten anything with wheels (except maybe a jogging stroller, which I don't have, because let's get real) over it. He handled the distance like a champ until the last hill from the lake to the house, so I did carry him about 1 block on my shoulders.

Mal really surprised me with how brave he was in the water Saturday! He's always been very intent on my being close by. This time, though, everyone was heading down to the pool while I still needed to change into my swimsuit. Mal went with my sister, and was in the water by the time I got there. He started "swimming" in the zero-depth entry, but by the end, was heading into the 4 foot water without me.

I'm hoping to sign him up for swim lessons this summer. This gives me more hope than I had before, because I was a little concerned he wouldn't go into the water without me.

Finally, in a bit of irony... I mentioned in my last post that I typically get <30 views per post now that I'm off FB. Someone apparently shared that post on FB, and I was back up to >200 again. Ha!

I don't want to live by FOMO

This morning, I read an article on The Verge entitled, "I tried leaving Faceook. I couldn't."

In it, the author talks about one year she was off Facebook because of a terms of use violation, but how otherwise, in 12 years, she's been on in spite of not liking it. Besides the "groups" function, which really annoys me, too, because there are plenty of useful groups and FB used to have a Groups app you could access without the rest of the site, her basic reason boils down to Fear of Missing Out (or FOMO).

"I missed big personal news from people I knew. I missed dance parties and house parties and casual get-togethers. I was the last to find out about births and the last to see baby pictures. Classmates got engaged and married and I didn’t find out until after my hiatus."

I get it. I used to have over 200 views on my boring daily blog posts. Now that I'm off of Facebook (and therefore don't share the link), I get 30 on a good day. But I don't need readers enough to justify staying on a social platform that no longer serves me.

Because here's the truth: Any person who read (and presumably enjoyed, if they kept coming back; perhaps it was morbid curiosity) could find me and even sign up for notifications when I publish an entry. They were clicking through out of convenience.

That's a point the author above makes: Facebook does the "emotional labor" of maintaining contact with people so we don't have to. Thing is, that's only sort of true. It casts such a wide net that it feels like connection, even when it's not.

If I don't get invited to a friend's (or friend's kid's) birthday party because I'm not on Facebook... How good of friends are we, actually? If I want a friend or one of Mal's friends to come over, I'll contact them personally. Same with birthdays or meet-ups.

I don't really want to be "convenience" friends. I'd rather have one or two people who miss me so that after a while will reach out and suggest we get together sometime. If I miss that someone got married, then that will be something cool to talk about when we see each other. They can tell me a story well-worn to most people, but it will all be new and exciting to me!

Some people have asked me why I got off of Facebook whenever I did it. I don't have a pat answer. It wasn't the data stuff. It wasn't the polarization. It wasn't the time suck. It wasn't one thing. At some point, I just decided that it wasn't serving me, and I cut ties.

One thing that was a definite emotional drain on me was confrontations over misunderstood articulations of opinions, misunderstandings that would be much more easily avoided in a face-to-face conversation. I'd spend time offline mentally constructing replies that were gracious but absolved me of unflattering or ill-fitting opinions that had been assigned to me.

So many of my conversations in person were starting with, "Somebody posted..." I was being exposed to information not of my choosing, and it was taking up mental bandwidth that is already at a premium, what with maintaining a house with a teenager and a preschooler.

There might be downsides to leaving the largest social media platform on the planet, but I haven't felt any of them strongly enough to consider jumping back in.

Everybody have a great week! (All 18 of you!)

When Fatphobia Leads to False Conflations

Today, James and I had to have some vitals checked and do some blood work for a new life insurance policy.

First, the whole thing was kind of sketchy. They're a medical contractor that does the work for Mutual of Omaha, and they do offer to come to your house. I'm glad that James opted not to do that, because my allergies are worse at home than anywhere else, and that affects my heart rate at times, for sure.

Anyway, the address they gave us was a pretty spectacular glass office building that was way fancy.

Mal especially enjoyed this white noise indoor courtyard.

When I found the suite, I went in and told the guy we had a 9:30 appointment. He asked, "Do you know the name of the company? We have a lot of companies here." Well, actually, maybe? They didn't mention that they rent office share space, and that information would have been helpful.

Next, they'd instructed us to start drinking water before the appointment because we'd need to provide samples. I took this seriously, and when they hadn't called us in by 9:45 (we were already discussing how long to wait before we took off), I went to the bathroom. As I washed my hands, a lady opened the door and said, "Laura? Oh. We need a urine sample." I told her, "I held one for you for fifteen minutes." Sigh.

We went back into this office and I was ready. I am at a healthy headspacee, for the first time in 30 years, regarding my body. I eat and move and wear what and how I want, without thought to others' opinions, or without shaming myself, and it's so freeing. But I don't know how I'd react to having a number assigned to me (I don't really care what size I wear; that's never been an issue) and I don't want to risk obsessing or going down a dark tunnel over a stupid measurement of my body relative to the gravity of our planet.

So.

I said, "I need not to know what I weigh." The technician interrupted me with, "But no! You're beautiful." I said, "I know." (Seriously. Ask James.)

Just because I was performing self-care doesn't mean I think I'm ugly. On the contrary. Most of my life, I've felt pretty until outside sources "corrected" me. My not wanting to know my weight made her think I feel "too" fat and therefore ugly. There's a meme I just saw last week, and this recalled it.

From Body Positive Memes by Michelle Elman

So there's that. Anyway, because the whole office was carpeted, the scale didn't work, anyway, and so we both just provided weights out of the air. I said what I weighed when I first went in because I was pregnant with Mal. My body is definitely different now than then, but besides that pregnancy, I haven't weighed in 10 years, other than at the doctor's, and then I said the same thing: I can't know. It's not good for me.

Besides that, neither of the women who helped us had English as a first language, although one was fluent. The other was a lot more fluent in English than I am in any other language, but since we were talking about medical conditions and medication, sometimes had a difficult time understanding James and therefore writing down what he was saying. Never mind that EVERY SINGLE THING they asked us we'd already answered on our life insurance application.

Fortunately, the blood-letting was done quite adeptly and you can't even tell that I got jabbed today.

But also, the notes given to us before the appointment about what to expect were: "Blood and urine samples, body fat checks, basic questionnaires."

Sigh.

This is for life insurance, so I'm sure they have some rubric they use to determine risk, based on many factors. However, science is on the side of saying that "body fat" shouldn't be one of them. From a study a few years ago, researchers found "a U-shaped curve, with the bottom of the curve — the lowest risk of death — falling around 25 to 26 on the BMI chart, making the risk of early death lowest for those now labeled overweight. People considered 'mildly obese' had roughly the same risk of dying as those in the 'normal' category. Death rates went up for those on either end of the scale — underweight and severely obese — but not by much." (New York Post)

Anyway, I'm just glad that's over. Because ugh. And after fasting and not having caffeine, I treated myself to Krispy Kreme's Chips Ahoy doughnut and a soda. Because that, too, is self-care.

Lake Season!

Today, Mal and I walked down to the lake for the first non-post-storytime visit in a while.

Lesson 1: If the sun's out, wear a tank top, no matter what the temp feels like at the house.

We didn't stay long, but were there for enough time for me to notice a few things.

Mal played with a little girl who had probably just recently turned 2. When we first got there, the dad was with her. A few minutes later, the mom came (back?) with a drink for both of them. The mom had backed their SUV into the parking space nearest the playground, which is a space reserved for the handicapped. It's entirely possible that they had a tag; I have no idea. But when they left, the dad is the one who drove. He cut to the right too quickly and rubbed an orange wood pylon all down the passenger side back door. Oh, I hated that sound for them. I've done the same with a borrowed truck in a parking garage! And their SUV looked flawless otherwise. Hope they do what I'd do and just ignore it. Poor kids.

When Mal and I were getting ready to leave, there was a couple getting ready for the boat launch. The guy was climbing into the boat and the lady was getting into the truck to back down the ramp. The guy asked her if she had her fishing license. She responded irritably, "I don't know. I'll check when I get into the boat, and if I don't get to fish, it won't be the worst thing that's ever happened."

Once she started easing backward, he was hollering directions to her: "Straight. A little left." She had both windows up and I wouldn't be surprised if she was blasting the radio and the air. I don't know why she was so miffed, but she was. Then he yelled really loudly because they hadn't unhooked the boat from the trailer and he wanted to do that before they got into the water. She did stop for the yelling. I hope they had a great time once they got out on the water.

Finally, we left via the exercise stations they have near the walking trail. Unlike some trails that have the exercises spaced out, these are all just scattered in the same area. Mal calls it the "grown-up playground" and he loves to see what he can do. While he was doing them, I noticed, again, a truck idling in the boat parking. I'd been aware of it, on and off, since we'd gotten to the park.

I mentally put the pieces together: When we'd arrived at the park, there was a guy sitting in a docked boat. A few moments later, a woman wearing (carrying) a baby and walking a preschooler went down and put the older child into the boat. The guy and older kid took off, down the arm of the lake, and the mom and baby disappeared. They had apparently been sitting in the truck the whole almost hour we'd been there and I presume were just waiting for the others to come back.

I HATE noise pollution in places like this. I get that it was borderline hot today (low 80s), but in the shade, it wasn't bad. I can't imagine sitting in an idling diesel for more than an hour. It wastes gas, plus it means everyone else around has to listen to your truck running the whole time they're trying to enjoy nature! It might not be as bad as when people rent pavilions and they think it means they get to blast the whole park with their music and/or public addresses, but it still detracts from the whole "we're outside getting closer to our host planet" vibe.

Anyway, we also saw these. which was nice. And Mal got to taste his first drop of honeysuckle nectar, which he liked.

I neglected to mention in the last post that we'd acquired an inflatable kayak. Now that it's heating up, I'm super excited to get down to the lake to try it out! Hopefully soon!

April, the fastest month

It's been a full couple of weeks.

Since my last post, we tried out a very cool new indoor playground, Catch Air (and, yes, their URL looks like "cat chair party"). We've been to the one in Austin on Anderson Mill, and it's neat... but for the same price, the Round Rock location is vastly better. It's larger, was much less busy the day we visited, and all but the top level of climbing areas are tall enough for an adult to traverse without having to stoop.

Love the space theme!

Really cool color-changing pad, with a neat climbing area Mal's scared to try.

I think they approve of the toddler area! (They're both GIANT "toddlers," but there were elementary kids on it earlier.)

We've been playing outside a lot, as the weather has been mostly amazing.

Mal's sleeping is getting more fragmented, and I'm going back to "newborn mom brain," after many weeks of feeling like we were getting somewhere, with him sleeping 6ish hours many nights. Today, I read in Reader's Digest that lack of sleep can lead to wrinkles, because during sleep is when one's skin repairs. Actually, the whole article (something like "four things that are giving you wrinkles that you didn't know about!") made me roll my eyes, because... who the heck cares? Not to mention that lack of sleep itself is an actual health hazard. So, yeesh.

We got our tax assessment for 2018 and are filing protests for all three lots. Our monthly property tax is as much as my ENTIRE mortgage payment in 1998. I'll have to go in front of the arbitration board. Last year, they amended the house lot price based on my online filing, but the two "vacant" lots stayed the same. This year, they doubled the assessed price on the lots, and we're definitely not going to be doing that.

More fun, James's mom came to visit for a few days.

The first thing we did after picking her up was to go to dinner at Nland Surf Park, which is just a few miles east of the airport. It was great food and a really neat facility!

I got the avocado and quinoa. James got their Impossible Burger (veggie) and his mom had a polska kielbasa.

We shared these truffle fries.

There were games for land-lubbers, including this and corn hole.

And you get to watch people surf.

You can pay $5 to walk that pier you see in the picture above, and to have access to the beach (but no surfing for that price!). We did not, because we got there at about 6 PM, and their last surfers can check in at 7 since they close at 8. But we were able to see enough this time. If we ever went back and spent the better part of the day, hanging out on the beach and watching the surfers up close would definitely be worth $5 a pop!

James's mom got to see Little Land, experience Snow Monster, see some hangdog bluebonnets, and sleep on an ancient couch. So all in all, it was a nice visit.

Mal and I met friends at the Play for All Abilities park on Friday. I'm happy to report that Mal did not pee on any play structures this time, as he did in the early days of his potty training. We actually used the park restroom, though he did gag when we walked in. That kid cannot stomach the smell (even if it's just cleaning solution) of public facilities.

Just hanging out. In his pajamas.

On the way home from there, we stopped at the Disney Outlet Store and Mal got -- guess -- MORE CARS. But they were on sale! I got mini pretzel dogs from Auntie Anne's, so we both went home pretty darn happy.

This weekend has been... a workout. We're having the play system "maintained" in a few weeks, which means tightening all the bolts, and staining the whole unit. To prepare, it was suggested that we power-wash the whole structure. James borrowed a machine from a coworker, and I got busy.

Well, first, I tested it on the front walk, and ended up cleaning all 700 square feet of porch. THEN I did the play system. We also realized that the roof, though vastly superior to the canvas covers, posed a challenge our ladder was not fit to tackle. My brilliant idea? This.

Brains AND looks?! I'm the whole package!

Suffice it to say that after two days of power washing, my arms are ready not to squeeze trigger-handles anymore. It was quite satisfying, though, watching that dirt blow away. It's tempting to tackle our entire fence, but I think we have about 500 linear feet of fence, and my gripping muscles veto that idea. Plus, it's not like I have all of this free time.

That reminds me!

Today, Mal and I went to the Episcopal church we've visited once and I thought "mehh" but Mal seemed to like. Then we met James for lunch at J&J Barbecue (to which I would link, but they auto-play audio, and that one is a deal-breaker for me), where I finally got to eat their freshly-prepared fried chicken again. But next time, I'll get their cheddar pour burger. HOLY COW, it looks amazing.

THEN James took Mal downtown to Monster Jam. James texted me 19 minutes in that they were on their way home. Even with earphones, the noise was too much for Mal to handle. There went my dreams of a quiet afternoon alone. Although I likely would have squandered it the same way I squandered the hour I'd had before they returned: Doing my Monday chores (cleaning the kitchen and both bathrooms), and then power-washing all of the playscape except for the roof.

I did the roof when the fam got home, because first I needed the SUV, but also because I did not want to fall and lie mangled for however long it took for anyone to notice (D is a day sleeper). However, when I was working on the first side, I turned around to tell James something and noticed both of my guys had wandered indoors. Fortunately, it wasn't nearly the slippery proposition I'd anticipated.

So, good times were had by all. Now, James gets to stay home and work from here tomorrow (and Wednesday!) because maybe we're quieter than the boisterous crew in his office at work? We'll see how that goes! I hope it ends up being sustainable. Will save us both on gas and on tolls.

Hope everyone has a great week!

Mal quote from the past few days: I'd tried to wipe Mal's face while he was eating, but he was ignoring me, so I just put the napkin on top of his head. "Mom, can you TRY to be nice?"

Two sides of the same kid

Yesterday, Mal and I were on our way to a birthday celebration for a child he's only met in passing. As we approached the party, Mal said, "I'm a little nervous." When I asked why, he said, "Because of the house. I've never been there before."

Internally, I marveled a bit at the self-awareness it took to be able to name an emotion like that for a three-year-old.

Then today.

I was cleaning the back bathroom when I heard Mal call, "Mommy! You have to help me get the pink ball out of my nose!"

He had been snacking on some little candy cake decorations and, for some reason, had jammed one up his left nostril.

So, no. Definitely a typical three-year-old.

Anyway, it was harrowing (for me). He was whimpering and had pink melted sugar oozing out of his nose. I tried to pinch it out, but he yelled that it hurt, and then SNIFFED.

"No! Don't sniff! It will go up further. Can you blow?"

He tried blowing a couple of times, arguing with me when I closed the opposite nostril, but that didn't work. I went to get a pony-tail holder because his hair was getting in the way.

He insisted, "Mommy, I need a Band-Aid!" "A Band-Aid would the opposite of help."

Finally, after his hair was out of his face, I could actually SEE the shape of the candy at the bridge of his nose, where glasses would rest, if he had any. I pushed in toward the center of his nose, and he yelled and cried again that it hurt.

"I know, but this is the only way to get it out! I'm sorry!"

After a few pushes, I rolled it out. It was a little smaller than when it started, and I know it would have dissolved or gone up into his sinuses and he probably would have gagged it out. But, ooch, what a discomfort.

Today was a big mail day for Mal. First, he got his Hot Wheels Color Shifters we ordered last week. He was thrilled, and took a 2-hour bath to play with them. Then we got the Lightning McQueen scooter we'd bought on sale a couple of weeks ago. He's trying to figure that one out. Finally, he got a soft baby doll I actually ordered from Amazon this morning (we don't have Prime Now out here, but can still get some things on the same day!), because he's loving his baby and wants to sleep with it, but the baby he has is plastic and not comfortable to be cuddled or rolled onto during the night. He kept saying, "Aww, it's my cute baby. He's hungry!" and feeding it or taking off its hat to check out his little tuft of hair.

He's having a good time in general! Love this kid.

Sometimes

Sometimes, you're just tired.

Not sleepy.

Exhausted.

Spent. 

Certain that if something doesn't give, you're going to crawl out of your skin.

And then something happens.

A memory.

A realization.

A quick "hello" in passing.

And the feeling of gratitude washes over you, soft and endless, and nothing else matters.

And you wouldn't trade that for a month of naps.

Because it's the important thing.

And you have it.

You have it all.

He Giveth and He Taketh Away (like Calgon)

This morning, Mal woke up early. raring to go to Target. When we got out, I realized that the 51 degree high for the day (yesterday was 85) had already been hit and the mercury was dropping. We ran by Chick-fil-A and got free chicken minis and a free "Sunrise" something that's basically just orange juice and soft serve mixed together, then went to the store. Mal picked out a couple of Cars, and on the way home, I got my free cow calendar treat for the month (which I couldn't order with the other free things, but two trips was no problem because it's in the Target parking lot), which was a chicken biscuit. James got the drink, D got the biscuit, and I offered the minis to Mal, who rejected, so I was forced to consume them.

When we got home. James was still in bed and, I have to tell you, I was not in the best head space about that. I'd already tweeted something snarky (which you can go see, because I'm not going to share it here, but I think I'm pretty funny), and just kept coming around to this thought I was repeating in my head about how, yes, I appreciate that James gets up early every morning during the week to go to work and support our family financially, but surely he realizes that even when I'm in bed when he leaves, I'm not asleep nor have I gotten much rest overnight and no, I don't want to fall into a "me or him" mentality but there is the fact that when our child is awake and one of us is asleep, the other one necessarily has to be awake, so would it be reasonable for me to hope that maybe my husband would offer just one Saturday a month where he would rise with the son and allow me a lie-in since he surely recognizes my contribution and desire for rest, also?

When James got up, he played with Mal while I made lunch. And did laundry. They were going outside, and I wanted to watch a video while I chopped stuff for the curry, but for some reason, it was taking FOREVER for them to get ready to go into the back yard, and so I loaded the dishwasher while I waited for the quiet, and then they finally went outside for like 4 minutes, as you might remember the temperature comment above.

THEN later, James asked Mal if he wanted to go down to the Cajun Festival at the park, so I drove them down and they were gone long enough for me to almost vacuum the whole house. Then James went back down there alone, and I have raging hormones right now, and my son is on 100% + at this general time, and... I needed a dang break.

"And the gods heard her prayer." To borrow a quote from "Once on This Island." Which is a different musical altogether, but we'll get to that.

Mal wanted to nurse. During the day. My mom made the comment, "I thought you were about through with nursing." WE WILL NEVER BE THROUGH. This is what they don't tell you when you have a squirmy newborn: If breastfeeding "takes," you will NEVER NEVER wean them. This is our life now.

Anyway, it turns out, he went to sleep at about 4:30. I was hoping this meant he was just feeling super stimulated from a busy week and might sleep all night, but even at 8:06 PM, we never know. It still looks promising, though.

SO, I got online and saw that the Easter performance of "Jesus Christ Superstar" Live in Concert was on YouTube.

I was vaguely aware of this show growing up, as we were a theater family. And while I don't remember hearing, "This is blasphemy!" about this particular show, as James does, we never really paid as much attention to it as we did Phantom or Les Mis or Into the Woods or Secret Garden.

When I was in college, though, majoring in theater with a concentration in musical theater, one of my classmates performed "Gethsemane" and I was absolutely floored. Totally sold on the whole thing. Listened to it a million times and loved it. I didn't enjoy the film too much, as it was so blatantly 70s, an aesthetic that I, ironically born in the early 70s, didn't embrace. (I'm sure the JCS I listened to was the revival, though I have adored Ted Neely's every dang performance.)

Watching this show was hugely cathartic. I sobbed at Pilate's initial song about his dream. I was transfixed by Brandon Victor Dixon as Judas every time he was on stage. Caiaphas was haunting. The musicians were flawless. The updates to the musical and visual style were fabulous. Sara Bareilles was genuine as Mary Magdalene, but there's no comparing her "I Don't Know How to Love Him" to Judas's reprise of the same song. Both she and John Legend, who played Jesus, are incredible singers and performers. And when they're the least memorable players in a production, you know it's top notch.

Oh, and Alice Cooper as King Herod? I literally gave him a standing ovation at my dining room table. His take on Herod was more "old school rock and roll" (to quote Andrew Lloyd Webber) than the kind of effeminate vaudeville style that is traditional. It was very satisfying to watch.

I felt more positively spiritually moved by that hour and 40 minutes than I have in years, I believe.

It's interesting to me the reaction of some people when new or "different" takes on familiar Bible stories come out. We do it with kids' books, making it available to them on their level. We do it in allegories and parables in study books to help drive home the point. But when the people from familiar Bible stories are presented as raw or urban or messed up, sometimes people's knee-jerk is to be offended and ignore the offering.

I find fresh eyes to be invigorating and thought-provoking.

The Bible isn't measured or tidy or easy to deal with. I think we get this white-washed version of Bible stories (meaning like paint, not like race, though we certainly do that, too) that make us thing that because people go to church and are generally quiet and respectful that it's the only honoring way to handle the material.

One thing I've appreciated about my pastor and the environment at my church this past year is their willingness to look at Scripture and literally ask, "What are we supposed to do with this?"

A funny thing... a few weeks ago, the scripture reading was from Numbers 21. Specifically: And the people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food." Then the LORD sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died. And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you. Pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.” So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.

Typically, at the end of such a reading, one would say something to the extent of, "This is the Word of the Lord." The reader, who has been the accompanist at this church for more than 30 years, just shook her head and said, "This... is the book we... cherish." And everybody cracked up. Because, seriously. What?

I hope there's room for that in most Christian circles. I think it's healthy.

And how it's 8:30 and I should be heading toward bed, since we'll probably be up at 3 and Mal will be starting since he really didn't eat anything today. Oy.

I still appreciate a few quiet hours to myself.

And I love my husband, of course. He does a lot. I just needed the chance to get out from under that cloud of funk.

More Stuff Mal Says

Lately, chatting with my little is an absolute hoot. What comes out of his mouth belies so much of what's taking place in his mysterious mind. So here are some examples I want to remember.

The other day, Mal asked me to go do something with him, to which I agreed. He lit up and said, "Really, you will?! That'll be precious!"

+++

One night he wanted to make pancakes, so we just threw stuff into a bowl and every time he had an idea of something we should put in  (mostly food coloring), he pronounced, "It will be FAB-uh-luss!" Over and over again.

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Today at Little Land, Mal was obsessing over the 18-month-and-under play area, affronted because there was a kid in there who was over 18 months. I told him that I was sure it was because he had a smaller sibling in there with his mom. This conversation started, beginning with Mal:

I wish I had a baby so I could go in there!
You want a baby?!
I could be a babysitter.
Yes, if you were a babysitter, you could go in with your baby. Maybe when you get a little older.
I'm getting bigger right now!
But you need to be a little more mature before you can take care of a baby.
I can be a babysitter.
Okay, if you were a babysitter and your baby didn't feel good, what would you do?
Hug it.
What if the baby were hungry?
I'd give it breakfast.
What's breakfast for a baby?
A Popsicle.
What would you do if the baby threw up?
I'd clean it up.
What if you needed help? Who would you call?
Spiderman.

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James and I have discussed lately the unfair reality experienced by most families: That the kids go to the mom for EVERYTHING, regardless of which parent it would be more convenient to approach. Today, James and I were both hanging out, lying on the master bed, while Mal played with his cars in "Radiator Springs" (the cat condo). He said, "Mommy! Wake up!" I suggested, "Why don't you ask Daddy to wake up?" He reasonably answered, "Mommy, no! Daddy's sleeping!"

Then James laughed so hard he cried, and the same again later in the day when I brought it up again.

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Along the same lines, later I was working in the kitchen. Mal had gone to the back restroom and passed his dad in the hall to come ask me to help him put his underpants back on. I told him to go ask hi Dad to help as I was in the middle of something. He went to the back of the house yelling, "Daddy! I need Mommy!"

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Mal wanted mashed potatoes the other night, and the only potatoes I had were little new potatoes that had been cooked in a beef stew. Because of the carrots and tomatoes, the potatoes did have an orange tint, but I made extremely tasty mashed potatoes out of them and handed them to Mal. He received them with, "This isn't right. Try again, Mom."

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In pulling out his desk chair, Mal accidentally knocked it over. Very understatedly, he said, "My beautiful plan... Ruined."

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We were eating with my parents recently, and Mal asked my dad something. Dad responded genuinely, but Mal thought he'd said something about boogers. Mal reprimanded him, "Pappy, don't be a jerk."

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I think on these things when I'm lamenting how tired I am, how hopeful we were when we removed caffeine from Mal's diet and he was sleeping hours on end for a while but we're back to the same or worse than usual, or how monotonous so much of parenting a tiny person can be. It's also very rewarding and outright hysterically funny much of the time. I'm grateful to get to accompany this kid through his days.

Software Quality Metrics

I ran across a forum post asking about ways to track tangible achievements in terms of software development. The original poster complained about the fact that pretty much every tool they can find is based around just spending time on a problem rather than actually checking off solid accomplishments.

I spent enough time writing a response that it seemed worth sharing here:

If you can come up with a good, tangible way to track useful software progress, you could make billions of dollars selling it.

Personally, I have one "Contribute to Github" daily to remind me to do something to give back to open source. And another for spending at least 1 hour a day on a personal project (which is usually something hosted on github).

I'm very careful about tracking time for the latter. Time spent on technical emails asking for advice counts. Time spent scanning mailing lists for responses doesn't (but actually reading any responses and sending back "Thank yous" does).

And then I have a slew of individual TODO items that I'm vaguely trying to use the way I would a project management tool. But that interface seems clunky enough that I haven't actually messed with it in over a year (I'm still working on a single item from that list, really, and it hasn't seemed worth the effort to break it into smaller pieces).

In a lot of ways, it's easier to beat procrastination by focusing on the "process" over the "project." If we focus on things like "I have to accomplish x, y, and z," then our brains will find ways to derail those goals. It's a daunting, complicated thing, and our brains are terrible at that sort of thing. That's a great way to spend a lot of time in front of your computer and accomplishing nothing.

Instead, just decide that you're going to spend x amount of time trying to make some sort of progress on x. The stupid, lazy, really powerful parts of our brains can get behind that and push.

Put in the time. Take a break. Do something to reward yourself. (There's good neuroscience that experts tell me show this really is incredibly effective. Anecdotally, it works pretty well for me).

Lots of people swear by the Pomodoro technique for this. I haven't had much luck taking it to that level of formality (once I get involved in a problem, I can quite happily spend 4 hours on it without noticing).

Deadlines can also be an incredibly effective tool, if you have a meaningful way to measure progress. 

This is actually pretty easy if you're doing something like writing a novel. It's very difficult (back to your original point) to do this in something like a software project.

Measuring things like the number of lines of code changed in a git commit can make you feel good about yourself, although it's very easy to game the system and add in needless garbage. Be sure to give yourself bonus points for lines that have been deleted.

Code that doesn't exist is guaranteed to be bug-free. (Although the code that used to call it might have unexpected problems...measuring lines of code is always a risky idea).

Good luck. Please let us know what you find. This has been one of the biggest pain points of my career.

Happy Marriages

I've often wondered why some marriages work and others fail. All too often, the failures are obvious from miles away. But many times they just seem (to outsiders) to have happened out of the blue after many years of success.

What's the difference between those and the ones that continue for entire lives?

A few months before Laura and I got together, a wise friend (I generally try to avoid naming names, but I suspect Kirsten Stensaas Jackson will appreciate the publicity) told me the secret to her life-long marriage (it was only 17 years, since her husband was tragically taken away far too young. But I suspect she'll never remarry): Wake up every day and choose to be happy and dedicated to making your marriage healthier and stronger.

That doesn't work if you're in one of those train-wreck doomed-from-the-beginning marriages. But I suspect that a lot of people who seem to be in one of those could probably make it work if they both just did that.

Then again, I've seen far too many marriages where one person threw themself into that wholeheartedly, only to discover years later that that other had really just been along for the ride.

So it also has to be mutual.

I ran across this definition many years ago: "I love you" means "Your happiness means more to me than my own."

In America, we tend to think of love as an emotion. Or a feeling. A couple of months or so ago, I heard an interview a with someone from China. This person derided the American pop culture idea of "love."

Most people I know who think of love think of it in terms of that young love zing sort of thing that clouds your judgment and makes you do stupid things like moving to another country to be with someone you barely know. We seem to think in terms of passion and energy and need.

If you pay attention, a lot of the pop culture version of "love" revolves around things like

•  creepy stalker behavior
•  long-term damage to your body to shape it (and thus you) into something that's worthy of all the benefits that stem from making it lovable
• Romeo/Juliet levels of stupidity when relationships don't work out
• the idea that there's some individual soul mate (The One) who's perfectly compatible
• snagging a good match before someone else manages to sink their claws into "the One"
• the belief that that initial zing you felt when Cupid's arrow hit will last
• the subsequent disappointment when it doesn't
• a woman's loss of identity when she submits to a man
• a man's drive to conquer a/many woman/women

I could easily write an entire blog entry about each and every one of those fallacies. I'm pretty sure other people have already covered them much better than I possibly could. (For example, a lot's been written about that initial "zing" is called either "new relationship energy" (or NRE) or limerance, mostly depending on the context).

And those are just the ones that popped into my head immediately.

But this is a diversion.

Back to that interview with the Chinese:

Their culture doesn't really place any importance on love at all.

To them, marriage is really about the devotion.

I think it's pretty safe to say that all people have been lovable (and deserving of our love) at some point in their life. If you truly get to know someone else, you're going to feel some love for them. Even if it's just "at some point in his life, he was just a vulnerable child who needed love."

Some people are not capable of maintaining a loving relationship. That doesn't make them any less lovable or deserving of love, but it does make them very unlikely to find anyone who will truly be devoted to them for the long-term. I suspect these people are extremely rare, and I feel very sad for them.

But, in general, if you make the effort to devote a little time and energy to your devotion to your spouse (or spouses...even if it isn't legal, I'll give a shout out to polyamory), and they reciprocate, it seems like it can probably work out fine.

Not that I'm an expert on long-term relationships by any means. I'm pretty sure it was my mom who convinced me that can't truly know another person until you've been married to them for 10 years. From that perspective, Laura and I are halfway to getting to know each other.

And I won't claim that we've worked out all the jagged edges. 

I've been thinking a lot lately about a lunch date that I had with Laura's pastor (Jacob). He tried pretty hard to convince me to just call the marriage off at the last minute. Well, not call it off. Just postpone it so we could sort through all the spiritual and scriptural ramifications.

My argument at the time was a little bit lame. Laura and I had already committed. For all intents and purposes, she'd already moved in. He told me that was OK: we could figure out an alternative. I still don't know what he had in mind.

Her stuff was in my house. She wasn't moving in without the legally binding covenants: she was setting the "proper" example for her kid. She had already donated her home to charity. She was living in an AirBNB with a dog chorus that was so crazy that she showed back up at the Nuthaus for a while to play Battlestar Galactica for a while before her spine betrayed her again and she had to run away just far enough for me to catch her.

In retrospect, the discussion with Jacob seems almost humorous. He basically grew up with no knowledge about Christ, and had become the shepherd of one of Austin's most liberal tiny churches.

I grew up in a pretty extremely fundamentalist/evangelical church and have decided that I simply cannot believe the things I was taught then about the Bible. The God and Jesus with whom I grew up are such monsters that I cannot worship them.

If that version of the Bible is true, then I'd rather spend eternity in Hell than praising the sort of God who would Create a reality that followed those rules.

If my interpretation of Jesus's love and forgiveness is correct, then we all receive it and get into Heaven. Or maybe we already have. Either way, I don't believe that Jesus is going to hold this sort of question against anyone, if Jesus is the Real Deal.

On the same lines, I simply cannot believe that Jesus' love and forgiveness doesn't extend to people who don't buy into the concept of Original Sin or His divinity.

Because of Jacob's personal theology, I think he believed that Laura was risking her immortal soul by marrying me. Due to this, he not only refused to officiate the wedding, he decided he couldn't even endorse it by showing up.

Huh. I didn't realize until now that I'm still bitter about that.

Jacob, if you ever happen to read this, please know that this was never a personal grudge. I'm shocked to discover this bitterness. Your presence would have meant a lot to Laura, and I like you enough that I'd have felt extra happiness if you'd showed up. 

Then again, this was before we got any chance to know each other in Haiti. At this stage in our relationship, you were asking about my heart, and I was trying to figure out what you meant. Or maybe I was just guarding it very closely. I'd just been through a lot of pain, and I wasn't ready to share it with a stranger.

To complete the side-track, I really appreciate Jacob's approach to Christianity: on nights like tonight, I still vividly remember the first sermon I ever attended, where he discussed the fact that apostleship is a continuum of belief between absolute certitude and very serious doubt.

When you think about the analogy the Bible makes repeatedly between marriage and the Church, it seems worth pointing out that continuum.

Since I decided to dedicate my life to Laura, I haven't ever gotten close to that "very serious doubt" side of things. I'm sure they'll happen. They're bound to, right? I'm told that I'll start I have the 7 year itch thing to look forward to.

I think I remember discussing it with other couples who told me that it hit them around Year 9 instead.

I'm not worried about it.

Because I'm completely and totally devoted to my wife.

And our children, but I don't expect them to be around in 30 years.

I know she's a dirty rotten liar, but I'm pretty sure that she's also pretty devoted to me. I've found that I don't really mind when she lies to other people to make my life better.

I'm sure that's a character flaw on my part. I decided long ago that I'm going to love everything about her (disclaimer: loving asthma is a tough thing. I wish she didn't have to deal with it, but I think I'm going to be forced to find a way to wage war against Big Pharma so she can breathe)

So...there's where I am at Year 5.

Holy shit. I can't believe it's been this long.

For all intents and purposes, I think we're both still happy. 

If we aren't, then I wish she'd let me know before. But then I never even asked you to promise. Just that you couldn't expect me to realize if this falls apart.

We should probably revive our regular health-check.  Once upon a time, we used to ask each other whether we were doing OK. I'd like to keep that active. I think we're doing great, but I want to always remember to ask and make sure that you do also.

I'm going to scroll way back through all the ideas and streams of consciousness that I've just babbled out.

Laura, I love you.

I feel happy just thinking about you, and. more than anything else, I want you to be happy.

And well rested. That's a nice bonus that I fantasize about for text year.

Happy Anniversary, my Love.

Thank you for everything.