Perspective and Spilled Milk

Another blogger recently posted something that went straight to my heart. The other day she was pouring something into a glass and she spilled a little onto the counter. Her four-year-old observed this and commented, "Mom, sometimes you spill, and I don't get mad at you."

I don't consider myself a scrupulously neat person, but nothing pushes my freak-out button like seeing my toddler spill something. I gasp, I shriek, and I grit my teeth as if the spill was a personal insult to me rather than a mere step in the process of my toddler developing motor skills and learning cause-and-effect (e.g. tilt glass beyond angle x = spill y quantity of milk onto carpet). I'm trying to accept that spills are just part of growing up, not earth-shattering calamities. And I'm trying to remember that sometimes I spill things, too.

For heaven sakes, if I ever hosted a cooking show it would be billed as a comedy.

Death-defying Quote

"I detest life-insurance agents: they always argue that I shall some day die, which is not so." --Stephen Leacock

This just made me laugh. Thought I'd share.

Rejecting Spongy Tradition

My daughter turns two this month, and I decided to have a little birthday party with her play group buddies and their moms today. The occasion led to some deep reflection on the subject of . . . cupcakes.

I'm generally not a big fan of cake. I prefer desserts with more substance like a fruity pie, some cheesecake, or a cookie bar I can sink my teeth into. So why on earth did I feel obligated to make cupcakes for my toddler's party when she and her pals will neither expect nor remember them? I suspect it was because I think my fellow moms expect cupcakes to grace a birthday party, but realistically they don't want to eat them any more than I do. I split the recipe between mini- and full-sized muffin pans, and at the end of the party the minis were nearly gone and all the full-size cupcakes were still sitting patiently on their plate. Apparently even the grown-ups prefer a small bite of sugary sponge over a fist-sized mass of it.

Lesson learned: In a couple years when Munchkin #2 turns two, I'll just make a small batch of mini cupcakes, and a double batch of Mom's Salsa, which we ran out of way too quickly. Better yet, maybe I'll forgo the cupcakes in favor of brownies and just stick a birthday candle into one of them. THERE you go . . .

Padawans Rock

My company (I worked there before Joy arrived, and still telecommute a little from home each weekday) held its annual Christmas party at Disneyland this year. We enjoyed good food and a magic show at one of the hotels, then we headed over to the Magic Kingdom for the rest of the day. Alas, they don't let pregnant gals ride Star Tours or Thunder Mountain, but Phillip and I still enjoyed riding some of the lower-key attractions.

My favorite Disneyland experience was actually not a ride, though. I loved watching the Jedi Training show, where kids get to learn basic light saber fighting moves, then face off against Darth Vader himself. I’m sure this would be a dream come true for many kids, and it was fun to see some of them really get into it.

Each "Padawan" got to wear a robe and wield a light saber in the show. This girl decided to accessorize with a crown, and the Jedi instructor deferentially called her "Princess."

One of the boys in the group showed particular enthusiasm and skill at following instructions. After he bested Darth Vader in hand-to-hand combat two menacing storm troopers suddenly closed in on him, and the Jedi instructor urged him to stretch out his hands and use the force to drive them back. Without hesitation, boy shot his hands forward and those storm troopers went reeling. It was awesome to watch, and I bet that young Padawan will remember the experience for the rest of his life.

Buzz Saw Meditation

A while back, I read about a blogger who takes the frustration out of bad situations by viewing them as opportunities to meditate. If she's exasperated with a slow grocery line, she labels the wait "grocery line meditation." Stuck in traffic? "Freeway meditation." The simple addition of the word "meditation" makes her feel serene and wise, rather than trapped and exasperated.

Today a neighbor decided it was a perfect afternoon to run his loud table saw, over and over again, right in the middle of my toddler's nap. It actually didn't disturb her much, but the first dozen times he turned the thing on I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to open the window and say some rather unneighborly things to him. Remembering the "meditation" trick I'd read, I started mentally referring to the odious noise as an opportunity for "buzz saw meditation." It really did make me feel better, possibly because humor dispels tension.

They, Who Are So Fresh From God

"It is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us." (Dickens)

Lately this quote about the pure love of children has been on my mind a lot. My nearly-two-year-old daughter certainly has her moments of impatience and pushing her (and my) limits, but on the whole she is unassumingly cheerful and loving, and it often fills me with wonder that such a being is so intensely fond of me. Watching her face light up when she sees me, and hearing her little voice call out "Mama!" as she hurries toward me melts my heart. May I live worthy of such wholehearted, unconditional love.

Nice Place to Visit . . .

This will not be a deep, philosophical post (which will probably be a relief to many of you). After all the brow-furrowing political dialogue this blog has seen over the past few months, I felt it was high time to just post something fun. Maybe this post will provide you with a captivating window into my soul. More likely it will just be an amusing read.

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Joy and I often go for walks in our community, and as we stroll by the endless variety of houses and yards I often find myself daydreaming about what I want my home to look like when our apartment-dwelling days are finally over. I find that some yards appealing and instructive about what I want to shoot for with my own future home. Other yards provide helpful insight into what I don't like.

The following are an interesting mix of both qualities. They're the top three local yards that I enjoy looking at but WOULDN'T want for my own home.

#3 - Latin-Spiced Xeriscape

Most xeriscapes (landscapes using plants that require no supplemental irrigation) look decidedly barren to me. This one is the most vibrant I've ever seen, but while the eco-friendly concept appeals to me the plants just aren't my cup of tea. I prefer the lush look of non-desert foliage, and I want most of my future landscaping to be edible, or produce something that is. In other words, my front yard will probably contain things like herbs, almond trees, etc., and those require water.

Plus, while I love the fact that this person had the guts to paint their house bright orange with electric blue trim, I just don't think I could bear to come home to those colors every day. I would feel like the building was an edgy art project, not a home. But that's just me.

#2 - Japanese Zen Garden

This yard makes me feel more serene whenever I look at it. I love its flowing, natural design, and its sense of sanctuary. What's more, it has a certain exotic thrill to it since it is so strikingly different from the typical lawn-with-a-floral-border American yard you see nearly everywhere you turn.

I love visiting this yard, but I would no more replicate it at my own home than I would wear a kimono to church. Kimonos are nice and all, but they're not me. I would feel like I was wearing a costume, masquerading as someone I'm not. The clothes you choose make a statement about you, and I feel your yard does, too. If I create a yard that suggests my home is some oriental haven of Zen wisdom and serenity, it would be cool statement, but an inaccurate one. That kind of place would be nice to visit, but I neither expect nor really desire to establish a home that fits that description.

#1 - Harvest Festival

This is not a trick photo; those corn stalks really are about ten feet tall (or at least they were a few months ago when I took this shot). The gardener in me geeks out whenever I pass this house. I've always got to stop and see what they've planted this year, how tall it's grown, and how big their pumpkins are getting. I don't think I've ever seen a vegetable garden so exuberant. Someday I've just got to find out what they put in their dirt.

All that being said, I can't see myself ever doing something like this with my front yard. While the Zen garden would make an inaccurate statement about me, this type of yard would make an accurate one AT THE TOP OF ITS LUNGS!!! That's not my style.

While I love the idea of functional, edible landscaping, and at least a significant portion of my backyard will probably be home to squash, berry bushes, fruit trees, etc., I'd prefer that my front yard be more subtle in its unconventionality. Hence the "herbs and almond trees" approach. They're both decorative and functional, and they don't scream "Look at my funky hobby!" They also don't scream "Come eat me before my owner can!" the way an orange tree would.

So I guess this post does provide at least a small window into my soul: I'm perfectly willing to be different, I just don't want that to be the first impression I make on people. Whether that's a virtue, a vice, or just a neutral observation is open to debate.