Pardon any random thoughts in this one, guys... I'm just now sipping on my coffee, so the caffeine has not hit my brain yet. There's no telling where this might lead if I'm not careful.
Tomorrow is the winter Solstice! We call it Yule, and it's a celebration of the return of the Sun to the earth and the new hope that He brings with him for the coming year. He's born again from the Mother, who now fades into the winter Crone, and slowly as He grows He brings light, warmth, and renewed life to the cold, barren world. The official Solstice is at 6:03 PM EST according the Old Farmer's Almanac website, but that's not always the best time to celebrate it. Things get in the way, you know? So tonight, I'll be staying up til the Sun rises again, holding a vigil with my candles lit to let Him know, He's not forgotten. After all, every light and every spark and flame are a little bit of the Sun here on earth. Maybe if there's enough of them, He'll return right on time.
At work recently, a friend asked what exactly staying up all night entails. I wasn't sure- I've only done it once or twice before, and both times, I spent the night hanging out with my Sims. Makin' babies and conquerin' towns, mwahahahahaha...... Ahem. Not a whole lot of spiritual depth there. Maybe a few psychotic tendencies, but not much religion. (I did light my Yule candle, though, so that counts for something, right?) This year, I find myself needing to go a little deeper, especially with the new moon coming up at the same time. It's a time for renewal, for creation of good things to last the year through. So I did a little thinking, and a little brain picking in my favorite Pagan parenting Facebook group, and I've decided that a) I need to have no couch surfers tonight and b) I need to spend the night doing seasonally productive and festive things.
So, tonight will start with a trip to Winterhaven with my mom and V. After all, the celebration of light is the reason for all the fuss, so what could be better to kick off the anticipation with a visit to an entire neighborhood COVERED in lights and beauty? After that, it'll be the usual night time routine for the kiddo: dinner, bath, medicine, and bed (assuming we don't get home so late that all he wants to do is pour himself onto the mattress with a boob and go unconscious, like last night). While I'm waiting for the Sun to be reborn, I'm going to be making Christmas presents, wrapping presents, addressing the holiday cards that should have gone out two weeks ago, and I think I'm going to replace the white lights in our front window with multi-colored ones. (I checked it out from outside last night. It was uninspiring, to say the least).
Oh yeah. Last night.
LAST NIGHT WAS AWESOME.
The original plan was to go see Winterhaven last night with Andrew. This did not happen, because at some point I got a call from Phil! Yay, Phil! He's back from basic and home for Christmas, which is great, and he managed to not only get ALL FIVE brothers together at the same time, but we even had the corresponding families, people were dressed nicely, AND we ate dinner at a good restaurant! I was and am thoroughly impressed. It is no small feat to do such a thing. I admit, the fact that it's cold helped- it means that Andrew is forced to wear jeans and not comfy shorts when he leaves the house, bwahaha. Unfortunately, with five brothers, three womenfolk, and three kids... we take up a lot of space, which takes a long time to arrange in the restaurant business. We managed to squeeze into an 8 person booth at Chili's, with 4 people on one side, 5 adults and one kid on the other, and a child on either end in a high chair after waiting for about 45 minutes. And unfortunately, that much food is also difficult to get out at the same time so we had another long wait for dinner. I have to say, the kids did a good job at the table. Polite, not too much mess, and no screaming! When I say, kids... I mean V. Mattie and Mase are good kids and old enough to know how to behave in such a setting. V spent about half the night saying "Eat, please! and "Thank you!" to our waiter. But with the wait times, we didn't get out of the restaurant til 9:30... and Winterhaven shuts down at 10:00. So, we went home. But dinner was great! Most of the ride was spent on Genie civil rights... Dinner itself covered a variety of topics, including Spiderman vs. Batman and the proper soup to salad ratios.
I have to admit, I got pretty lucky with my choice of husband. Not only do I get him, I get more brothers than I ever knew I wanted, and all the weird conversation that entails.
And now... I have to get going. I just realized, I never bought one very important ingredient to the Gift in A Jar bit we're doing for Christmas.
The jars.
Michael's here I come!
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Sunday is like Mean Girls.
Another Sunday has come and gone.
I wonder if I can make it a habit to post here on Sunday nights? Probably only until Andrew's work schedule changes again and he's home before 9:00... because let's face it. The computer does not belong to me if my male counterpart is in the apartment.
Sundays in this house are busy days. It's grocery day (when we have, you know, money for that), laundry day, and it's house cleaning day. It's the day when that abstract period between Out of Bath and In the Bed lasts longest, because we do all the fun grooming stuff- nails clipped, ears cleaned, clothes set out for what's usually a frantic Monday morning. Sundays are also occasionally donut day. When one has a Dunkin Donuts within walking distance, one must take full advantage.... when we have the money.
There are family members who probably shake their head at me, and sigh to themselves, thinking things along the lines of, "This is the day that the Lord hath made.... something something day of rest... something something don't even cook... something something going to hell anyway...". I'm exaggerating. I'm sure they all still cook, they've got people to feed!* I do understand that many people feel that Sundays are time for rest and contemplation, maybe even a little relaxation. I wish that this were a feasible option for us- and really, it's a good thing I'm not a Christian because I'd probably feel incredibly guilty about the whole thing.
But you see, on any given week, Sunday might be my ONLY day off. Sure, Saturday is a half day. I usually get a lot done on that day, too. And hey, sometimes I don't work Saturday at all. Those days become fun days (when we have money. Am I the only one seeing a theme here??) and therefore are not conducive to housework or errand running. Andrew works 40 hours a week, just the same as I do. His time is similarly limited, so that it behooves us to get as much done as possible on the days when we have nothing else to do. For me, that day is Sunday. For him, it apparently only happens every three weeks or so. In any case, Sunday is a work day, to ready ourselves and our home for the hysterical, mad dash that is the work week.
I often wonder if other people have set days for things like this or if this is just an odd trait I've developed. Like, do you have a day where certain things have to be done? Is Tuesday the day you wash the sheets? Meal plan on Saturdays? Clean the bathroom on Wednesdays? (I clean the bathroom on Saturday nights, while V is in the bathtub. It's a win/win. Toddler is effectively contained and pleased. I am available for constant supervision/squirt toy target. Toilet stays ring free, and I feel as though I am worth my salt. The only downside is that I have to go back after bed time to scrub the bath tub. Eh.) Wasn't there an era where everyone did the same thing on the same day of the week? 1800's perhaps, or even the quite peculiar 1930's-1950's.
Also, on Wednesdays, we wear pink. So fetch.
*Disclaimer: I'm only teasing! Please no burning at the stake.
I wonder if I can make it a habit to post here on Sunday nights? Probably only until Andrew's work schedule changes again and he's home before 9:00... because let's face it. The computer does not belong to me if my male counterpart is in the apartment.
Sundays in this house are busy days. It's grocery day (when we have, you know, money for that), laundry day, and it's house cleaning day. It's the day when that abstract period between Out of Bath and In the Bed lasts longest, because we do all the fun grooming stuff- nails clipped, ears cleaned, clothes set out for what's usually a frantic Monday morning. Sundays are also occasionally donut day. When one has a Dunkin Donuts within walking distance, one must take full advantage.... when we have the money.
There are family members who probably shake their head at me, and sigh to themselves, thinking things along the lines of, "This is the day that the Lord hath made.... something something day of rest... something something don't even cook... something something going to hell anyway...". I'm exaggerating. I'm sure they all still cook, they've got people to feed!* I do understand that many people feel that Sundays are time for rest and contemplation, maybe even a little relaxation. I wish that this were a feasible option for us- and really, it's a good thing I'm not a Christian because I'd probably feel incredibly guilty about the whole thing.
But you see, on any given week, Sunday might be my ONLY day off. Sure, Saturday is a half day. I usually get a lot done on that day, too. And hey, sometimes I don't work Saturday at all. Those days become fun days (when we have money. Am I the only one seeing a theme here??) and therefore are not conducive to housework or errand running. Andrew works 40 hours a week, just the same as I do. His time is similarly limited, so that it behooves us to get as much done as possible on the days when we have nothing else to do. For me, that day is Sunday. For him, it apparently only happens every three weeks or so. In any case, Sunday is a work day, to ready ourselves and our home for the hysterical, mad dash that is the work week.
I often wonder if other people have set days for things like this or if this is just an odd trait I've developed. Like, do you have a day where certain things have to be done? Is Tuesday the day you wash the sheets? Meal plan on Saturdays? Clean the bathroom on Wednesdays? (I clean the bathroom on Saturday nights, while V is in the bathtub. It's a win/win. Toddler is effectively contained and pleased. I am available for constant supervision/squirt toy target. Toilet stays ring free, and I feel as though I am worth my salt. The only downside is that I have to go back after bed time to scrub the bath tub. Eh.) Wasn't there an era where everyone did the same thing on the same day of the week? 1800's perhaps, or even the quite peculiar 1930's-1950's.
Also, on Wednesdays, we wear pink. So fetch.
*Disclaimer: I'm only teasing! Please no burning at the stake.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Obligatory First Post Here
*Note: I originally posted this on Tumblr, intending to blog there. However, I find I dislike the way comments are made there, by reblogging over and over, and so I've decided to come back to good ol' Blogger. So this is an exact copy/paste of my first post there.*
Well, hello there.
So, if you're reading this, you probably know me. Maybe you know me because we went to school together, or maybe we worked at the same place once, or we could possibly be related. You might know me from my mom, or my cousin, or my grandpa's friend's daughter's daughter, or from one of the various Facebook groups I enjoy reading (look! A Llama! And a Heughligan!). Isn't there some theory of six degrees that says we're all connected to Kevin Bacon anyway?
In any case, this being Tumblr, you may not know me from Adam... or Eve, I suppose. And perhaps, even if you do know me, you may not know much about me or my present circumstances (which are really not harrowing, but relevant at least).
Cue Obligatory First Post Here.
My name is Helen. I am a lovely 26 years old, but if you ask my co-workers, I'm about 19 ;) Down slope to 30, yes indeed. I don't feel it most days, to be honest. I hover somewhere in the 17-21 age range, so hey, maybe the co-workers have it right after all.
I have been married to the same fantastic fella for 6 short years. His name is Andrew. He's a pretty awesome guy, I have to tell you. Good looking, good hearted, strategic in ways that baffle me regularly, intelligent, brave, and an utter dweeb. He and I have been together since we were all of 14 years old. Think about the 14 year olds you know- then imagine yourself at that age again, throw in your significant other at the same age, and then imagine yourself spending the rest of your life with that same person. Such is my reality, which explains the amount of video games in my home currently.
We have a child. He's a boy. And when I say, "he's a boy", I mean if you looked at a list of male child stereotypes, you'd find a footnote at the bottom that read, *see also Victor R*. Farts and burps make him giggle. He loves trucks and cars, big machinery, pirates, and chasing the cat intent on (what she believes) is serious bodily harm. He frequently smells bad (NOT MY FAULT). He runs full force into walls, steps back and shakes it off, then keeps playing. He does have a sweet side, though: his favorite movie is Frozen (Olaf FTW), he snuggles like a pro, he says please and thank you unprompted (alas, not my fault here either) and Daddy owns his heart. He also has a blueberry obsession.
These are the three main details of my life. If they were on a color wheel, they'd be red, blue, and yellow. My secondary colors are thus: I am a child birth educator, doula, and all around birth junkie. I work full time outside of the house at a bank. I am a Pagan.
I tell you these things because it means you might see stuff on here that offends you. I am all for unmedicated birth, home birth, breastfeeding past infancy, baby-wearing, cloth diapering, and choosing not to circumcise. I often find myself doing things I did not intend to do as a mother because my time at home is so limited (read: kid's favorite movie is Frozen...) and I have to find ways to be both mom and wife efficiently. I believe and talk about a variety of things and happenings that will sound strange to a majority of religious people, and my beliefs will almost certainly not reflect yours. These three facets of my life factor into my decision making, my daily activities, my nightly activities, and then some. You probably do stuff differently-- that's okay. That's GOOD. Being a working mom has taught me one valuable lesson and that's that each person does as they must to get by in their own struggle. If that means formula feeding an orangutan in a stroller while you sit home and practice your Qur'an pronunciation, by all means, do so. Just don't expect me to baby sit (Orangutans freak me out kinda) and don't get mad when I explain how and why I do what I do.
Well, now that all that is out of the way...
Welcome to my blog!
End of Obligatory First Post Baloney.
Well, hello there.
So, if you're reading this, you probably know me. Maybe you know me because we went to school together, or maybe we worked at the same place once, or we could possibly be related. You might know me from my mom, or my cousin, or my grandpa's friend's daughter's daughter, or from one of the various Facebook groups I enjoy reading (look! A Llama! And a Heughligan!). Isn't there some theory of six degrees that says we're all connected to Kevin Bacon anyway?
In any case, this being Tumblr, you may not know me from Adam... or Eve, I suppose. And perhaps, even if you do know me, you may not know much about me or my present circumstances (which are really not harrowing, but relevant at least).
Cue Obligatory First Post Here.
My name is Helen. I am a lovely 26 years old, but if you ask my co-workers, I'm about 19 ;) Down slope to 30, yes indeed. I don't feel it most days, to be honest. I hover somewhere in the 17-21 age range, so hey, maybe the co-workers have it right after all.
I have been married to the same fantastic fella for 6 short years. His name is Andrew. He's a pretty awesome guy, I have to tell you. Good looking, good hearted, strategic in ways that baffle me regularly, intelligent, brave, and an utter dweeb. He and I have been together since we were all of 14 years old. Think about the 14 year olds you know- then imagine yourself at that age again, throw in your significant other at the same age, and then imagine yourself spending the rest of your life with that same person. Such is my reality, which explains the amount of video games in my home currently.
We have a child. He's a boy. And when I say, "he's a boy", I mean if you looked at a list of male child stereotypes, you'd find a footnote at the bottom that read, *see also Victor R*. Farts and burps make him giggle. He loves trucks and cars, big machinery, pirates, and chasing the cat intent on (what she believes) is serious bodily harm. He frequently smells bad (NOT MY FAULT). He runs full force into walls, steps back and shakes it off, then keeps playing. He does have a sweet side, though: his favorite movie is Frozen (Olaf FTW), he snuggles like a pro, he says please and thank you unprompted (alas, not my fault here either) and Daddy owns his heart. He also has a blueberry obsession.
These are the three main details of my life. If they were on a color wheel, they'd be red, blue, and yellow. My secondary colors are thus: I am a child birth educator, doula, and all around birth junkie. I work full time outside of the house at a bank. I am a Pagan.
I tell you these things because it means you might see stuff on here that offends you. I am all for unmedicated birth, home birth, breastfeeding past infancy, baby-wearing, cloth diapering, and choosing not to circumcise. I often find myself doing things I did not intend to do as a mother because my time at home is so limited (read: kid's favorite movie is Frozen...) and I have to find ways to be both mom and wife efficiently. I believe and talk about a variety of things and happenings that will sound strange to a majority of religious people, and my beliefs will almost certainly not reflect yours. These three facets of my life factor into my decision making, my daily activities, my nightly activities, and then some. You probably do stuff differently-- that's okay. That's GOOD. Being a working mom has taught me one valuable lesson and that's that each person does as they must to get by in their own struggle. If that means formula feeding an orangutan in a stroller while you sit home and practice your Qur'an pronunciation, by all means, do so. Just don't expect me to baby sit (Orangutans freak me out kinda) and don't get mad when I explain how and why I do what I do.
Well, now that all that is out of the way...
Welcome to my blog!
End of Obligatory First Post Baloney.
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