Tex, Tiger, Lao Hu the Kitten

A few of you know that I've had a friend here who got rid of her unborn baby this week. It's a long story and probably shouldn't be shared in it's entirety on this here blog. But, I will say that the Lord did something fun for me. I say fun for me because my husband shot me a look the second he laid eyes on my little gift of grace.

As I walked out my door and into the stairwell to walk outside, I saw him. It was as if he was looking up at me and saying "Yes! You can rescue me! Your friend's baby is gone, but I am RIGHT HERE!" 

I picked him up, turned around and brought him home. I knocked on the door and met my husband who looked at me and said "Carrie, don't even think about it."We have both decided that we have more on our plate that we can handle already, so the cat needs to find another family. But on the heels of the situation with my friend, I was certainly not going to abandon it. I would rather sleep outside with it bundled on a park bench than let it go outside without a mother cat or a home. 

 Long story short, we have taken the cat in for the weekend and will give it up for adoption on Monday to a loving friend and home. I have to say that giving it up was hard. I know it's for the best, but my compassion strings were playing a loud tune. My poor husband got pummeled by the snowball of emotion that started tumbling about two weeks ago. While as a couple, we had made the rational decision that a pet isn't a good idea for our family right now, but that didn't matter when I looked into this sweet kitten's eyes. 

I was frustrated that we had to give him up and the first night, that I rolled over in bed and said in a rather non-submissive tone "Sometimes compassion isn't rational." 

It just isn't.

While I still believe that statement is true, I am also thankful for a husband that knows we have limitations that have to be considered. If I weren't married to him, I'd be that old lady with 16 kids, 85 cats and a collection of porcelain hummingbirds shoved into my china cabinet. 

"Anorectal" Ads Dripping with Immaturity

If you are offended at potty humor in any way, shape or form, skip this post.  It's dripping with immaturity and inappropriateness. I just couldn't help it. 

As I walked home from dropping the kids off from school, my peripherals stumbled upon this beauty.  Just your typical "Anorectal Hospital" ad.  

Apparently this ancient cauldron has not yet seen the "Anorectal" doctors, because he is still leaking.  

He is still leaking hot lava.

I shivered, laughed, shivered again and then took the picture.  The vividness of this picture was effective in it's not so subtle message that "anorectal" problems can plague us all. 

Worldview Perspective

A little worldview perspective for you on a Wednesday morning.

Lennon vs. Lenin

While sitting down with Selah, her Chinese textbook and a friend, a mounting cultural conversation happened.  

"Mom, who's Lennon?"

Thinking to myself "How do I describe John Lennon to a 9 year-old girl who has no concept of boy bands, pop music and cultural icons?"  I paused.

I was lining up bullet points in my mind:

1.  British pop-star

2.  Co-founder of one of the most successful rock bands in modern music history.

3.  Prolific singer-song writer. 

On and on my mind raced.

She was still looking at her Chinese textbook when she pointed out his picture to me.  

"See, this guy...Lenin."  As in Vladamir.

Oh, THAT Lenin.  Well, he wasn't quite as cool as the Lennon I was thinking about.  Sporting similar names, slightly different lives. 

Eating Jewish Style

I love our history curriculum. I love history. I am admittedly a moron in history.

History Odyssey has several books to choose from that will add tons of hands on stuff to do with your kids. I have issues with sitting still and learning.  While  my kids do sit down and crank out worksheets everyday, I have also found that we all need a change of pace. Frequently.  They have coloring books, craft books, recipes, 3D models and links to all types of websites to give them a better understanding of what's going on.  And honestly, it helps me have a clue as to what happened in Ancient Mesopotamia.  It seems that I was busy keeping my hair sprayed bangs in place while my colleagues studied history in junior high.

We are studying Ancient Israel right now. Besides it being fascinating, it has stretched our understanding of God's grace to the Israelites as they were in slavery, wandered and finally inherited the promises of God.  

We had friends coming to our house for dinner on Wednesday, so I decided to do a reenactment of  a Passover Seder meal. Little did they know that this would require them to wear a head dress and clean our house with our children.  One of the first parts of the Passover is to clean the house of yeast.  So, I put pieces of bread on the shelves and they cleaned it.  It also gave me an excuse to not organize the bookshelf before having them over for dinner.

The boys wore turbans.  My 4 year old told me he was a Jewish pirate.  Yes, that just might be a pair of pajama pants on my husband's head.  Oh, the things he does to indulge my creative side.

We had a blast recounting the afflictions the Israelites suffered in the desert.  We then went on to celebrating the hope found in the cross and our own redemption as His children.  

Days are evil. God is not.

I walked into my house this morning filling up my mug with coffee and cream, hoping it would make sense of a world that hurts.  Maybe, just maybe, my consistent morning coffee would add security to what my eyes have seen in just this last week alone.

A friend pregnant with baby #3.  Illegal.  Baby.  Wanted by some, unwanted by many. Told to dispose of it.  It's just a baby.

A friend pregnant.  Fearful of a history spotted with miscarriages.

A young girl.  Abused by a hand supposed to comfort. A parent taking revenge on a child.  In public.



I cry.




A friend pregnant.  Surprise.  Knowing the joy.  Fearing the sacrifice.  Miscarriage.  Grieving.  Hurting.

Babies found in cans meant for trash.  Against all odds.  Found.  Survived.

Belligerent parent's heart changed. A child's plea for them.  Prayers answered. Hopes captured.


Days are deceiving.  Control is fleeting. God is hope.

What's in a Sacrifice?

Jobs says he authorized biography so his kids can know him.  

As I saw this headline, my first thought was sadness.  To live a life and realize at the end of it that your children revere you as provider...and stranger.  And then I started thinking about those few individuals that live in any given generation that sacrifice their own families in order to serve the world at large.  Whether you admire or abhor Steve Jobs, we have to sit and think through what it means to sacrifice.  Did he make billions of dollars? Yes.  But now his children are sitting with a filled bank account, but empty memories of their father.  And guys like that aren't usually doing what they are doing for the money.  They are visionaries.  Thinkers.  Motivators. World Changers.

At what point does one realize that they will have to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others?

That they have been placed in such an extroordinary position that their lives will require more of them than most.


It's easy to villianize this type of person.  To say that they neglected their families and they should have been home more.  But, let us also realize that if Jobs decided to pull back, the ripple effects of his absence would be too numerous to measure. I for one am thankful for his sacrifice and hopeful that his kids will see that sacrifice and be grateful one day too.


*** As a quick sidenote:  I think that this type of extraordinary talent happens in only a handful of people in each generation.  I do not in fact endorse people using lame excuses to not be with their families.  That is all.

Get Real Bookshelves

I had a rough day.  But I will say that it ended in a few minutes of laughter.  Out loud.  By myself.  

One of the things that cracks me up about blogging, pinterest and social media in general is that we get to pretend our lives are packaged neatly, wrapped in eco-friendly paper and placed on our matching antique hutch that we bought at a thrift store and restored ourselves while our husbands coached family friendly soccer on the weekends.  

I look at this picture and I wonder if there are actually kids living in these homes.  Let's take a little showcase tour of the above photo. 

My favorite bookshelf was the one where all the books lined up in a lovely rainbow color sequence.  My bookshelves are also lined up, looking like a rainbow.  They start and end and have lots of colors...just like a rainbow.  And, you never know when and where the books will pop up...just like a rainbow.

Then, the little merry-go-round bookshelf.  It would take my boys 4.3 seconds to shovel the books onto the floor, sticking their rompuses inside those little cubbies.  They would then convince little sister to do it.  They would spin around in it until they puke.

Then there's the wooden dinosaur, ant-eater looking bookshelf.  My kids would take the books, slide them down the railings and jump off the top, pretending to be ninjas.

Another favorite of mine is the tree bookshelf.  I can guarantee those tree limbs would end up having birds drawn in neon crayon.  They would all be pooping on the heads of dolls lined up at the bottom. 

As fun as having a personal hammock to nestle into next to a glorious bookshelf would be, I'm not sure real life would allow that to happen.  Maybe it's just OUR real life that doesn't allow that to happen.  Sometimes I look at these things and I would love to have a house that looks like a magazine.  And then I remember that trying to keep couches egg shell white and bookshelves stacked in color coordination would require more of me than I'm willing to give to my furniture.  

Monkey Man turns 4

Dora, Dora, look who's four-a!  Our monkey man turned four this past week.  

Actually, he turned 4 two weeks ago, but the calendar has not been our friend lately, so we celebrated late.  He didn't know.  He didn't care.  There was pizza and cake to be had, that was enough for him.

As we went around the table and told him what we loved about him, he made silly faces and squirmed in his seat.  Being uncomfortable showing emotion...check...he is ready for junior high.

We told him that he is a great leader

he knows what he wants

he perseveres

he loves to protect those he loves

is an awesome big brother to Makaria

he is VERY cuddly.  

He opened a Buzz Lightyear back pack and just about had a stroke.  He was so excited and has asked to wear it every hour since opening it.

His siblings got him candy, a "pre-owned" Bible, and some "pre-owned" stickers. 

Then, it was time for the Buzz Lightyear scooter. Being half-naked and Buzz Lightyear are two of his love languages.

I made a Buzz cake.  I simply printed off pictures from the internet, colored them and slapped them on.  There was no way I could have fashioned a Buzz on my own and still kept all my hair intact.  He didn't care what it looked like, it was Buzz and there was chocolate.

I can so vividly remember this kid being in utero, it's scary. I get restless leg syndrome just thinking about it. 

The next day was the celebration with his classmates at school.  The bakery only had three choices for kid's cakes.  You cannot detour from the set birthday cake script.  If you do, complete panic happens.  DO NOT ask them to change anything.  So, I cut out a spider man from a coloring book cover and laid it on top of the white chocolate Hello Kitty.  

This sweet class is singing Happy Birsday!  

Eating with his friends. 

This dude makes us laugh every day.  He adds so much passion and excitement to our days.  We love this little monkey!

Eat, Play, Give

Here's a great website called freerice for your kids to practice vocabulary, math, grammar, geography and other subjects.  Every time they get an answer right, 10 grains of rice are donated.  The more they play, the more they learn.  The more they learn, the more lives are saved through the gift of rice.

Pretty easy formula if you ask me.

Capturing China in Pictures

These are pictures a friend took way out in Yunnan Province.  He is an incredible photographer.  You know how there are just some pictures that capture the spirit and struggle of others?  He has done that in all of his pictures that he's taken since being in country.  Check out his site for more incredible pictures.

Ugh, I wish I was smarter.  I couldn't get the larger picture to line up without it running over into my sidebar. The smaller one will have to do. 

He has spoken stories and listened to testimonies through these pictures.  I love them all. 

Grandparent Gush-Boys Edition

Here are my boys.

Kesed is 4. 

Malachi is 7.

I love these guys.

As a quick aside, my little buddy just lost his first tooth!  And then his mom accidentally threw it in the trash.  Good move, Mom.

Choice Limitations=Parenting Freedom

With 5 kids, there are a few things that we have discovered that provide sanity to our daily lives.  As of today, our kids are 9, 7, 5, 3 (4 next week) and 3.  5 kids under 10 can bring 100 gray hairs before 40.  BUT, it can also bring tons of fun, laughter and stories to tell at the wedding.

One of the most important for us is choice limitations.

There, I said it.

I am going to butt straight up against the American ideal of freedom and say that kids needs limits.  And I mean not just "don't touch the electrical socket or play with butcher knives"  type of limits.  I mean daily limits to even trivial choices.  Now, this will look different for my 9 year old than it will for my 3 year old.  As they get older, hopefully they can handle more freedom to choose by themselves.  But, if they haven't learned how to make choices as a toddler, than they certainly won't be able to make them as a teenager battling hormones and peer pressure.

This all started when my oldest daughter was 3.  Hubs told her to take off her shoes.  She refused.  My husband told her to stay in her room until she had taken off her shoes.  3 1/2 hours later, she was ready to  give in.  It was at this point that we realized we had taken a wrong path somewhere along the way.  We called for a huddle.  We did some reading and decided to start limiting her choices.  See, we had done like most typical Western parents do and had given our 3 year old tons of choices in her day.  So, when it came time for us to impose a limit on her, she decided that she didn't want to do it our way.  Why should she?  We had been giving her all these choices all day long.  For example:

1.  A kid gets up in the morning and I give them milk.  "But Mom, I want juice".  No big deal, I give them juice.

2.  I give them Cheerios.  "Mom, can I please have Fruit Loops?"  Because she asked so nicely, I give it to her.

3.  "Oh Mommy, I don't want the blue bowl, I want the orange one."


Do you see this pattern?  I know these all seem like such trivial things, but what I am telling my child is that they can dictate what they can and cannot have.  As a parent, I had also bought into the lie that giving my 3 year old tons of choices, it was teaching them independence and discernment.  The wrong thinking in this is that a 3 year old needs to be guided into what good thinking and independence really means.  This is usually the scene that follows a morning like I've laid out above:

1.  I tell my daughter to come here and put her lunch plate away.  Flailing and pouting will occur because she doesn't want to do it.  All of the sudden I am imposing a rule on her.  She has been her own boss all morning and all of the sudden I'm jumping in and taking over.


This can all happen so subtly that you don't even realize what's going on. All you know is that your kid is throwing fits every time they don't get what they want.

When hubs and I see that we are slacking in this area, we have to have a time of retraining for the kids and ourselves.  Honestly, training us as parents can be even harder than the kids.  For several days, we have to enact a choices boot camp.  We give them virtually no choices in their day.  I simply give them milk, Cheerios and the blue bowl.  If they don't like it, I just take it away.  Simple.  At first they argue, complain and cry. Eventually they realize that I'm in charge again and they fall in line.  At 3, they cannot differentiate between simple (what cup to choose) and moral choices (should I hit my sister).  We have to help them understand that they cannot simply do or get whatever their little hearts tell them.

After a few days of no choices whatsoever and a changed attitude, we slowly start introducing choices back into their day.  Maybe I let them pick juice or milk.  But those are the ONLY two choices.  No third option that they throw out.  And sometimes we just arbitrarily choice limit even our older ones, just to remind them that we are in charge here.

Choice limiting has radically changed our family.  They become more grateful when we say 'yes' and they find it easier to obey right away, all the way and with a joyful heart.

Pretzels, Nachos and our Third Culture Kids

Selah is studying Tolstoy right now.  She and I read through his short folktale "Three Rolls and a Pretzel" yesterday, so we decided to invite a few friends over and make homemade pretzels.

  I casually overheard a great third culture kid conversation (those of you unfamiliar with that term, it is a term used to define a child who is living in a culture different from their parents.  They can't completely identify with their parent's culture (the US), but also aren't completely blended into their home culture (China), therefore creating a 3rd culture).  Anyway, here's how the conversation went:

L: I've never had pretzels like this.  When we visited America last year, we never had these kind.

A:  Ya, me neither.  (thinking hard for a minute)  But I have had nachos.

L: (also taking a second to think)  Ya, I've had nachos too.

I laughed so hard to myself hearing them relate these pretzels to nachos.  So random and yet so fitting for their lifestyles.

These really were great pretzels.  They taste pretty close to the ones you get in the mall to appease a crying child while you shop.  Here's the recipe:

Ingredients

• 1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• 1 1/8 teaspoons salt
• 1 1/2 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup bread flour
• 2 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
• 2 tablespoons baking soda
• 2 tablespoons butter, melted
• 2 tablespoons coarse kosher salt

Directions

1. In a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast, brown sugar and salt in 1 1/2 cups warm water. Stir in flour, and knead dough on a floured surface until smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, and turn to coat the surface. Cover, and let rise for one hour.

***If you have a bread maker, just throw everything in and turn it on.

1. Combine 2 cups warm water and baking soda in an 8 inch square pan. Line 6 baking sheets with parchment paper.
2. After dough has risen, cut into 12 pieces. Roll each piece into a 3 foot rope, pencil thin or thinner. Twist into a pretzel shape, and dip into the baking soda solution. Place onto parchment covered baking sheets, and let rise 15 to 20 minutes.
3. Preheat an oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C).
4. Bake in the preheated oven for 8 to 10 minutes, or until golden brown. Brush with melted butter, and sprinkle with coarse salt, garlic salt or cinnamon sugar.

It's a great recipe for little hands too.  And for mom's who get to take bites of  each child's pretzel and then tell herself that she didn't eat any.

Waving the Flag of My Life Overseas

I just realized that while all other Americans were reflecting deeply on the events of 9/11, I was blogging about a Rabbi and his homosexual matchmaking fallacies.  Nice, Carrie.  9/11 was huge.  It's still huge.  I think it's really important to reflect and reconsider.

The thing about living overseas is that the cultural waves that sweep through in America are missed.  I often forget what date it is, what American holiday is coming up, and how to appropriately use English contractions.  There is good and bad about jumping the cultural waves instead of getting bowled over by them.  For example, we own nothing with Justin Beiber or Hanna Montana's face plastered on it.  That's a win.  The loss is when you have important events that transform and impact you as a person.

That's all.  Just wanted to acknowledge the day....and my glaring immaturity on such an important American event.

Parenthood ain't no glue

I read this article a few days ago.  Here's the premise:  






"Rabbi Arele Harel offers an unconventional solution for Orthodox Jewish gay men who want to raise a conventional family: He fixes them up with Orthodox lesbians."


I'm not going to jump into the deep end of the theological pool and discuss homosexuality and Orthodoxy.  Ya, I know you were hoping for a little mid-rash on the subject, but you're not gonna get it here.  


He goes on to say:


"Harel contends that gay and lesbian partners learn to love each other once children arrive. 'Their love is based on parenthood. Parenthood is the glue and it's strong.' "


I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud and choked on my tongue when I read this sentence above.  They learn to love each other AFTER the children arrive comment.  Right....I'm sure it's the delirium of being up until 3 am with a colicky baby and the nursing mishaps that end up with milk being sprayed across the table, hitting your partner in the temple that makes for a wonderful get to know you session.  No, it must be the diaper blow outs that happen in the cereal isle or the cheerios stuck to your forehead while you walk into the bank.  Ahh yes, that must be it.  


I LOVE being a parent, but I'm not sure that pushing things out of my baby's constipated stomach with my spouse is going to make me fall deeply in love with him. And at least in a more traditional marriage, where say you actually like each other before the kids come, there was a bond and attraction that you could hold tight to when parenting becomes hard.  In this little set up arranged by the rabbi, I'm not sure the initial attraction is even there to begin with.


 Parenthood is only glue if you have established the connection before the kids arrive.  Otherwise, parenthood will merely be a fragile sealing of two broken people .  

The Path of Civility

As some of you know, we were visited by two patrol ladies last week to make sure we were being civilized.  They explained their mission and gave us fans.  On these fans gave 10 ways you can be a civilized human being.  

Check yourselves against these suggestions.  You just might be surprised at how non-civilized you've become.

1.  Don't just spit anywhere.

2.  Don't throw your fruit skins or paper scraps on the ground.

3.  Don't throw your trash away in a messy fashion.

4.  Don't destroy public property.

5.  Don't damage the grass.

6.  Don't run red lights.

7.  Don't put your vending carts all over the place.

8.  Don't paste advertisements anywhere and everywhere.

9.  Don't smoke in public places.

10.  If you are in the service industry (ie, waitresses or retail), you shouldn't say things like "I don't know!"  Or "Go ask someone else!"

On the back of the fans, they gave some advice about procreation.  Why not?

The procreation rules are as follows:

1.  Be free to love and marry whomever you want.

2.  Having a boyfriend/girlfriend too young is a bad idea.  Having a relationship once you are older and more mature is much better.

3.  Decide to have babies when you are not too old, but not too young.  And...decide to have less kids.  

4.  Having a boy and a girl are both good options.  Girls also have the right to exist and pass along the family name.

5.  The one child policy is the responsibility of the husband.

6.  Give babies good health; feed them well; and teach them well.  These things will help us have a quality population.  And...if you have too many kids, you can't care for them.

7.  Men and women are equal.  You should treat women with respect.

8.  Care about yourself and don't get an STD.

9.  Pursue a good quality of life.

10.  Have a healthy lifestyle and admire your family's morals. 

Just follow the advice of the fan and all will go well with you.  I think this is some famous Chinese proverb from somewhere. Actually, these things do give good cultural insights into what they deem as moral and civil.  This month is the civility competition month between various cities, thus the women on patrol and the policemen actually handing out tickets.

The ladies came once last week and again a few night ago.  So weird that they came twice.  I feel like we are the definition of civility.

Sacrifices on Our Way to School

As I walked to my kids to school, I happened upon this.  It's a fairly common scene to see the remnants of a sacrifice offered the night before.  Noodles, fruit, and paper replicas are burned as a gift for the deceased family members in the afterlife. 

 Earlier this year, I wrote about how many people are now giving ipads to their ancestors.  I'm not sure what was burned here, but it breaks my heart every time to see the pile of offerings so hopefully given.  

August

A intense bag of cumin labeled "unwearied however effort powder"  

rehearsing a Justin Bieber dance with a friend.  I can now understand the fear of Western culture infiltration.

Hugs in their qi paos.  Not only should everyone hug, but everyone should wear a qipao at least once in your life.  It makes you feel dainty.  

A box full of August activities to pull from every morning

raw sewage peek out of its gopher hole every time I turned on the sink

homemade flower vases made from old coffee creamer and peanut butter jars

buzz lightyear, boats and one very satisfied 3 year old boy

tattoo fruit roll ups that you can lick and put in indiscrete places

And I'll leave you with this word of wisdom as we start the school year once again:

"Sweet Love Frequently Lisps"

The End.