Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Small Dude at Three Months

Our Small Dude has already reached three months of age. Truly, the time is whizzing by so quickly, I'm afraid the years are going to pass before I've realized it. Since the beginning of 2013, this year has sure been...what? It's a new year?! Sheesh.

Small Dude still does plenty of sleeping, eating, and all the requisite things that go along with digestion, but he's also starting to really watch us, hold his head up, and generally insist on seeing what's going on. Here he is from a few months ago:

Because dreaming of a Packer win is always a good dream. Hey, it's a new year!
Now you can see how alert he's getting, despite our horrific cold stretch (you know when you can count on one hand in the last thirty the number of days that have gone above zero degrees Fahrenheit, it's been a long cold stretch, even for Minnesota), his perennial hat-wearing, and his imprisonment in various small-child seats. And what a little sweetheart he can be! Even when he insists on sleeping during daylight and cooing wide-awake at 3 a.m. 

Mesmerized by the mobile...
Okay, Ma, just pick me up already!


Unwrapping all those gifts really takes it out of ya.



Able to snag a smile, if a blurry one!

Ahh... sleeping.

Friday, January 3, 2014

Quasi-Resolution: Let's Ditch the Wimpiness

Otherwise known as "Tough It Out, Wimps."


I've realized that, aside from my typical blogging chagrin, I'm not a big fan of New Year's resolutions. They bespeak a kind of subtle laziness: "Now that the calendar's changed, I resolve to take charge of my health, my finances, and my life!" In other words, I couldn't act like an adult, i.e. make hard decisions and actually do the hard work to carry those decisions to fruition, without an arbitrary time marker to kick my rear into gear. My issue isn't with resolutions, you see; my issue is with resolutions time-stamped, as though the other 364 days of the year aren't fit enough opportunities to act decisively about healthy eating habits or exercise or actual penny-pinching budgeting or resolving differences with a friend or setting boundaries with family or whatever things there are that we can reasonably change in our lives.

Now that I've had that little rant, let's get on to this recent Wall Street Journal interview with Julian Fellowes, the creator of the period drama "Downton Abbey." Fellowes makes a point of criticizing "our lack of personal discipline" and how it begets vulnerability and weakness. Unlike early-twentieth century Britishers, like the characters on the show, we lack a certain toughness. "Some pain was the lot of every human being alive," he says. "It didn't matter if you were the King of France. We don't have that." Then the interviewer asks these intriguing questions, which prompt Fellowes to really open up about modern society:

So we've become a bunch of wimps?
We think we can go from cradle to grave without any pain at all. As a generation, we can be rather feeble about toughing it out. Even the people who were working in those households, I don't think they were all miserable. It was a tough job but if you had a good employer, like anything else, there were worse places to be. It was a hard life—you had to get up early, work very hard. They had a more realistic expectation of life.
Do you think people's expectations these days are unrealistic?
With marriage, our generation thinks that we should all be incredibly happy all the time. The moment we are not incredibly happy, something's wrong with the marriage. Well, nothing's wrong with the marriage! You've signed up to live with someone for a half a century, and as long as you still have stuff in common and are still close, it's fine. But you see people getting divorced and you think "What do you think is waiting out there?" I kind of liked that [the generation that grew up in the interwar period] would have laughed at this idea.

I really appreciate Fellowes' analysis of us because, ultimately, I think most of us are wimps. I include myself in this. Most of us have had pretty easy lives, and when hardship has come along, we react as though it's an anomaly to life. Like Fellowes implicitly points out, expecting painlessness all the time isn't merely unrealistic; it sets us up to think we can be "incredibly happy all the time." Both expectations are laughably infantile. And who wants to go through life with an infantile view of life?

Aside from the huge number of people who actually do want to cling to this way of thinking and living, I think many people want to ditch the wimpiness embedded in our coddled culture. And I'm one of them. With Fellowes' words in mind, I'm resolving to approach the problems and struggles and crosses that will inevitably occur in my life with at least a modicum of perspective; that is, that while pain is hard, sometimes terribly hard, it is temporary. True Christians will understand this. In fact, they're still celebrating the end of waiting for the ultimate Defeater of pain, suffering, and loss (that's "Merry Christmas!" in vernacular-speak). And billions of people have weathered far worse tragedies than mine and still managed to be thankful for the good things that come. If they can do it, and God Himself took on the worst of it, then I at least can strive to keep a stiff upper lip, come high water and whatever else comes--for Hell isn't coming for me.

Monday, December 31, 2012

Monopoly With Friends (Old Long Ago)

Monopoly with friends is comfortable. We talk smack, exchange fake bills with glee and frustration, laugh and laugh again, and groan loudly when a certain someone lands on Free Parking--AGAIN--and rakes in our taxes and dumb fee money.



This New Year's Eve, we've consumed lots of water and chocolate and near-misses on the Millennium Edition board. It looked so futuristic twelve years ago, but its shine is too metallic now and its tokens quaint (a ginormous cell phone and a roller blade. Chortle with me, now). But life is like that, isn't it, especially in these long evenings that go by so quickly and that turn into years, and years. We don't know what's coming next year, whether the cliff will serve us a belly flop, whether we'll get an unexpected raise or a much-wanted child or a surprise move or none of the above, or whether our friends and family and dear ones will suffer and love and cherish and go homeward, heavenward. What comfort then that no matter the monopoly that sin and the unknown hold over us, that our lives are in trust.


But I have to go now, here in these last moments of 2012, because Papa's about to win the game. Happy New Year, friends. For Old Long Ago, my dears. 

Monday, January 3, 2011

We're going to try this again.

Hiya, New Year folk. (I have no idea what that means. I just made it up.) After months and months of nothing from our blog, we're going to "man up" and try again. I've got approximately 1,000 pictures from the last few months I'm hoping to upload... eventually. All of you faithful readers (like our immediate family) know our home computer (well, and J's work computer) have been slowly dying. Our trusty Dell is almost 7, and J's HP is almost 5--which translates to, what, 87 and 95, respectively, in desktop and laptop years?--and both have major issues, but I digress. (I'll just add that this little updating here took me 20 minutes. In the life of a young mom with two kids under three, dirty dishes, dirty laundry, blah blah blah you get the drift, 20 minutes on the computer is FOREVER. No exaggeration. If it's 20 minutes oogling books on the Amazon site, that's one thing. Photo/editing frustration is another. But more on that some other time.)

The good news is MERRY CHRISTMAS (Day 10!) and HAPPY NEW YEAR! And my New Year's resolution, other than keeping the kitchen counter by the back door clear, is to get this baby hoisted to its knees and shuffling back to the track. Your prayers are appreciated.



Ahhh. The essence of new starts... untracked snow.