gross

It has come to my attention that I wrote a post about food in between two stories about potty training. Thanks for keepin’ me aware, Katelyn!

j potty update

The other day when I was watching J and C, a new development in the J vs. Sawa war on potty unfolded. Here’s how it went down.  I had just positioned myself on the brown sofa, baby in arms, to deliver a much desired bottle to C. He was getting a little on the fussy side (a rarity for him) so I knew it was time to feed.  He took the bottle like a champ.  I was in the middle of patting his sweet, round back in hopes of a burp when suddenly he spit up all over the front of my shirt.  Great.  Oh well…at least infant vomit doesn’t have an odor.

I was still in shock of the spit up when notice J across the room.  He had been stationed at the dining room table (pre feed) to enjoy a snack of “peanut butter crackers” and sliced pears before I sat down to feed C.  I find this an effective sitting technique: feed both children at once, that way I can see the antsy 3 year old while I hold baby C in bottle position on the couch.  It tends to work out for me.

At first, I couldn’t even be sure that I had heard J say something, but the look on his face told me he had made an announcement.  I said, “What J?  I couldn’t hear you.”

The slightest, breathiest whisper escaped his lips: “I don’t have to go.”  Then his face went into number two production mode.  I knew it was on, and it was up to me to race him to the training toilet downstairs. Swiftly, I set C in his swing (didn’t have time to strap him in….don’t call CPS on me por favor) and ran to the table.  J let out a telling grunt as I plucked him from his seat and flew to the bathroom, toddler in hands.  As quickly as possible, I unbuttoned his pants to sit him on the pot.

The stench that escaped his batman underwear told me that I was too late.  To late to intercept the load.  I was bummed, but threw him in the shower for a quick spray down and gave him a fresh pair of underwear and shorts to put on.  Not wanting to appear disappointed or upset with the young boy, I lied through my smile  as I redressed him, “It’s totally ok J.  You’re doing great.  We’ll get it next time.” And miracle of miracles, we did get it next time.  But only because of my boss negotiation skills.  Yesterday, number two was safely deposited in the mini-john.  Hooray!

I do have to give it to the kid.  He sticks to his convictions.  Some may label it “denial” because he said he didn’t have to go poo when he was on the verge of doin’ the doody in his trousers.  But I prefer to call it conviction.  This little dude has learned the American way: stick it to the man, no matter what situation you’re in.  Maybe he’ll learn wisdom and honesty someday.  We can only hope.

big fat experiment

Got this recipe from my mom’s cookbook, entitled Big Fat Cookies.  Tried the “Butterscotch Blondie Marble Cookies” for the first time today.  They were a little bigger and a little fatter than I anticipated. Voila, the result:

 

I’ll proportion them better next time.  They still taste pretty darn good.  Stay tuned to see what I do with the loads of free time I have on my hands these days.

deep seeded fear

I have been blessed with a wonderful baby sitting job for a family here in SLO.  They have two young boys. J just turned three, and is so much fun.  He loves building forts, play dough, and ghost pirates.  C is almost 12 weeks, takes a bottle like a champ, and loves to have dance parties with his older bro.  Needless to say I stinking love them.  They are the best.  Save for one catch.

J, being 3, has naturally reached the threshold for potty training.  His mom reminds him each day as she leaves the house, “J, who are you gonna tell if you have to go potty?”  To which he replies, “Sawa.”  That’s me. 

Turns out that he never actually tells Sawa if he needs to go.  So the responsibility lies with me to constantly ask, “J, do you need to go potty?”  To which the response is infallibly a whiney “I don’t wanna go!”  But at least once I trudge him downstairs to the little, er I mean, “big boy” potty and let him try to go.  I mean, he loses nothing for trying.  He even gets a Pez candy just for squatting on the pot.  Win-win, I say.  He doesn’t think so, though.  

He usually stands, stiff-legged in front of his tiny potty and squeals “NOOOOOOOO.” As I try to calmly coax him into sitting down and just giving a little push.  I kid you not: he is deathly afraid of doo doo.  I have no clue why, but the kid will go days without a #2 sighting and give himself a huge stomach ache.  His mom assures me that this is totally normal for kids his age, but I still have my doubts.  I just feel like a villain each time I have to march him downstairs to give it a try.  Hopefully this phobia subsides soon!

most wonderful time of the year

For some reason, I love June 2. Call me crazy, but I think its one of the best days of the year, and I have absolutely no idea why. Here’s a few of my theories why this random date might be significant to me…

1. When I was graduating the 6th grade, I remember that our celebration/graduation party to move up into Jr. High youth group was on June 2.  I have no idea why I remember this, except that I thought I was the epitome of cool to be in Jr. High. Maybe I’ve learned some things since then.  Also significant about this day…I stepped on a bee in Westdale Park and my foot swelled up so big it couldn’t fit in my shoe.
2. My dear neighbors back home in Bako had their second daughter on June 2, 1998.  I was almost ten, and got to go to the hospital to visit the mama, daddy, and new baby. It was incredible.  I have never seen a baby so new or so perfect. She turned 11 today.  Time flies.
3. I just found out (thank you facebook) that my pastor’s b-day is today…Happy Birthday Bryan!
4. For most of my life, I’ve either been just beginning summer break or so close I can taste it on this date. Its a wonderful feeling to be almost there.  The anticipation is building, and the boredom of summer hasn’t set in yet.
5. It’s my blog’s 1 year anniversary!

And that’s all I can think of for now.  I just love June 2nd.

religion

A lot of people that I’ve met recently have shared with me their frustrations with “organized religion.”  A lot of them have been burned by religious institutions, let down by religious leaders, conned by selfish congregation members.  This is just so saddening to me.  I want to take people who have experienced “church” in this way and bind up their wounds.  I want them to see that the church is a body of broken people, and that we can’t put our hope in anything but Christ! People will let us down, churches will do the same.  My theory is that the hurt is more amplified within the church because its just a whole lot of broken people under one roof.  Let’s strip it down: what does our God think about religion?  What is pleasing to him?  Won’t that be the kind that is most pleasing to us as well?  

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. (James 1:27, NIV)

Light bulb moment…So that’s what God wants?  He wants us to love each other, look after those who can’t provide for themselves.  He wants us to bind together in a community as a “salty” people that preserve his goodness in a crooked and perverse generation.  He wants us to shine out his love like stars in the milky way, that each person that he has created will recognize his goodness and love. As a body of believers, we should give freely, love deeply, act justly, and above all, remain connected to our source, our Heavenly Father.

Now that’s what I call church.

legit

The Gospel Coalition:

Why did it take me so long to find out about this.  I flippin love it.  I’m seriously all about this….I love their articles (especially those meant for campus ministry!)  This stuff speaks to my heart. Here’s the meaty article I’m working on right now.  It is a huge help with all of the spiritual conversations I’ve been having lately.  Here’s where I can find some answers to the people that are constantly asking me, “So, do you judge me?  Am I going to hell if I don’t believe in your God?”  Check it out!

how would you describe your faith?

I had my last training shift at Upper Crust last night. Joanne, one of the regulars, sat at the bar as I finished up my side work.  Her book caught my attention.  I didn’t read the whole title, but in bold orange letters, the word JESUS beckoned to me.  I asked her about the book, and she explained why she was reading it.  Joanne told me about her beliefs, and then I asked her to describe her faith to me.  She said that she’s in the pursuit of truth, always learning.  She said that she was a Christian, “in the most liberal sense of the word.”  Then she turned the question on little-old-unsuspecting me.  She asked me as I wiped the counter, “How would you describe your faith?”

There was no turning back.  I stared at the black and green flecked granite bar for a moment, then answered, “I’m a follower of Christ.”  After a pause, I rephrased my response: “I’m surrendered to Christ.”  I have found that this answer is solid.  The word “Christian” has so many negative, ugly and unseemly connotations.  How sad!  I can’t even use the phrase Christian to describe myself without seeming cold, judgmental and hateful.  

Quite frankly, that’s not the Christ I serve.  The Christ I serve created me for a divine romance with himself, that I might know the Greatest Love.  He laid down his life to pay the penalty of my shortcomings, that I would be reconciled with the Father.  He lavishes a love so great on my that I can’t even imagine its limits. That’s the love that he died to share with me, with you, with Joanne.  He even died so that my Agnostic and Atheistic professors would recognize his love.  My prayer in this time is that I could be a witness of this beautiful dance of Grace and Truth that Jesus so perfectly modeled.

Also–had a wild spiritual convo crop up outa no where tonight at the MLL Spring Banquet.  I just sat and picked at my Thai food (yuck) while my fellow students (and professors!!!) asked me to describe my beliefs and the work that I’ll be doing with Campus Crusade for Christ next year.  So, naturally I just presented the gospel to three other students and two professors. One prof wanted to stay late to discuss spiritual things.  The two of us sat the restaurant for a half hour after the rest of the party had left.  Absolutely loco, I tell you.  That stuff doesn’t just happen.  The Holy Spirit is alive and moving in SLO. Pray for changed lives!

somebody’s baby girl

That’s the title of a rather sad Jon Foreman song.  The song is sad, but it has a good message.  The song reminds that no matter how “off-track” someone’s life has gotten, she is still “somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.”  

I like to remember that.  It reminds me to love others.  It reminds me that I am loved.  That I am somebody’s baby girl.  I belong to not only some awesome parents, but to my Heavenly Father, who loves me with unfailing love.  Everyone is somebody’s baby.  I need to remember that and remember to love like I believe that.

On a lighter note, here’s a rather telling shot of me as somebody’s baby girl….

irony?

I got my beautiful periwinkle bridesmaid dress in the mail this weekend.  I was thrilled!  After just a wee bit of alteration, it will make a fabulous dress in which I can support my dear Lyse as she walks down the aisle.  Really though, I was so so excited when the dress came.  I was just about to leave the hose to go to a babysitting job (leaving about 2 minutes late, as usual) when Lance knocked on my door.  I threw on the rest of my clothes and answered.  In his hands he had the box.  I knew exactly what was in it.  I took the box to the kitchen, cut it open as quickly (and carefully!) as I could.  I then ran back to my room to try it on, all the while knowing I was growing later by the second to nanny my sweet Cassius and Jaydn.

The color is perfect, accenting both fair and golden complexions, much to my delight. Admiring myself in the mirror, I imagined how wonderful it would look as soon as it fits me properly.  After a moment, I quickly threw back on my coral t-shirt and tattered jeans and dashed out the door.  When I returned home that evening, I found the most curious sight.  The box in which the dress came had its back facing my bedroom door as I entered.  Here’s what I saw:

The wheels in my head starting turning.  Did this box know me or something?  It was as if it was proclaiming my identity to me as I waltzed through the door.  My beautiful bridesmaid dress, used to aid my friend bid a goodbye to her singleness, was screaming at me in irony.  Here’s a close-up of the box (enjoy):

Thanks for the reminder, box.