chicken feathers

the comparison game

I can feel it when it begins.  I am usually sitting at the computer reading a blog or article or admiring something beautiful when my stomach clenches and my vision tunnels.  I slowly pick up the whip and start the methodical work of flogging myself with the accomplishments of others that I am quite sure that I could never do myself.  I will never be as creative, as clever, as accomplished, as mindful, as gentle, as spiritual...it goes on and on and on.

What the heck?!?  I like to think that I'm not the type to wallow but when it comes to comparing myself to others I can sink into the filthy pit of self-loathing with the best of them.  For me, this manifests itself mostly in areas of creativity and has settled into a deep fear to try new things or push myself to improve.  I focus on what I'm not and tend to leave it there.  Festering.

The other day I received an e-mail that spoke to this very issue and has helped me identify ways to dry up the mosquito-infested swamp of comparing myself to others.  In another life I enjoyed scrapbooking. Actually I still enjoy it, or the idea of it - I just don't do it.  One of the superstars in the memory keeping world is Ali Edwards.  I receive her newsletter which I usually glance over but a recent one on the dangers of the comparison game held my attention and has given me a new way to brave these choppy seas.  Two quotes spoke especially loud and I wanted to share them with you.

The first:

"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken." (Oscar Wilde) I remind myself that no one else can *make* me feel a certain way -- I choose my feelings. I remind myself that my job/task/goal/joy is to be myself, and allow myself to draw inspiration -- but NOT competition -- from what others are doing.  (So sometimes that means reminding myself that I've made other choices, good choices, that work for me and that may preclude having what that other person has.  Reminding myself of my values can be key here.) I don't need to try to be better than anyone else, I just need to be the best me. Finally, someone once advised me, "put yourself above no one, and beneath no one."  That helps, too.

 The part in there that keeps ringing in my head is drawing inspiration from others and not competition.  YES!  It's a great big world out there, filled with great people and great ideas.  I don't need to be everything.  I can appreciate the strengths of others, feel grateful for what they've shared, draw any inspiration I need and then move on.  

The second quote that I especially loved:

"Comparison is the thief of joy."  Theodore Roosevelt

So true.

Do you ever feel caught in the comparison trap?  What do you do to extracate yourself from it?  I'd love to hear more ideas.

 

 

thoughts at the park

One day this week I found myself with an hour and a half to kill before it was time to pick up Grant and Anna from school.  Rhett's nap was shorter than usual and I could tell we needed to get out of the house or it wasn't going to be pretty.  The weather was delightful so we headed to the park.  It was a great outing and one that made me think about how fleeting childhood is.  We recently got a new (to us) computer that is blazing fast compared to our old dinosaur.  Because of this, I've been transferring all our old video clips onto to the new computer with the thought that I will make some DVDs (my goal is to do this by the time the kids are all out of the house).  Watching these videos has given me a dose of melancholy.  I am transported back in time just a short 5 years and see my eight year old as a three year old singing his favorite song - the Itsy Bitsy Spider.  These days he refuses sing anything, especially the Itsy Bitsy Spider.  I see my 6 year old daughter as a 1 year old, just learning how to walk.  This same daughter of mine just learned to read today.  

Time is marching on and sometimes it feels so cold and ruthless.  One day Rhett has a toy "dinoshown" and the next day it's a dinosaur.  We can't go back and turn it into a dinoshown again.  Time refuses this warp.  I don't usually mourn this fact but lately it has settled into my heart with an ache.  While there is certainly joy in each new milestone and accomplishment I understand now that it comes with a price.  I am trying with renewed vigor to appreciate the moment without grabbing ahold of it too tightly.  I imagine that my time with young children is sand pouring into my hand.  If I grab at the sand I'll miss what continues to flow from above.  If, however, I gently cup my hands I can examine and appreciate what I have for awhile and then let it go as new experiences trickle in.  So I spend an hour at the park with my three year old boy, a baby girl strapped to my chest and I do my best to appreciate her breath my neck and how he needs me to lift him onto the swings.  The time will come that we must leave the park but first, mercifully, we get to play.

a snapshot

This is one of my favorite photos from this summer.  Actually, it's one of the few shots of the summer but a favorite, none the less.  I'm sure Grant's dress-up days are numbered - his self-consciousness slowly increases with the ruthless passage of time.  So, in the meantime, I try to appreciate these snapshots of childhood.  I know the these moments are brief and lovely.

I also enjoy this picture for it's glimpse into life with three children.  Three is not a terribly large family, I know, but certainly outside the "one boy and one girl" scope.  It's surprising to me how many people question our decision to have more than two...especially now that it's very obvious that a fourth is on it's way.  I swear, if I had a dollar for every "you sure have your hands full!" comment I could buy our own private island where I'd never have to hear that comment again.  I've been asked several times if I know where babies come from and I've fielded countless well-intentioned questions implying that surely we must be done.  

The thing is, we love our kids.  The chaos and noise, while exhausting and overwhelming at times, is full of joy and...life.  Our kids get along (on most days) and seem to enjoy each other's company (most of the time).  This picture of our three kids on our front step, collaboratively dressed; laughing together is why my hands are indeed full.  Full of joy.  Full of hugs and caresses.  Full of crayons, pencils and pages of books. They are full of meals prepared and cleared.  They are full of soap and towels, of homework and erasers.  Full of laundry, oh the laundry.  They are full, so very full of love.

When I look at this picture I see the innocence and exhuberence of youth and then, with a deeper gaze, I catch a glimpse the future.  I can see my children grown with families of their own.  I see them coming back to us, filled with stories and memories.  I see us gathered around the Thanksgiving table, laughing.  I can hear the sounds of their children running through the rooms and it sounds rich and full and wonderful.  I am looking forward to the legacy of our four children.  We have strung our loom and are filling it color and pattern.  I can see that it is lovely now but how much more beautiful will it be with more fiber, more weavers?  It takes my breath away to consider it.

Do I know where babies come from?  Why, yes I do.  They come straight from God and I am grateful to be welcoming another bit of heaven right here, into our very own family.  My hands are full but but not too full for this new soul - this new weaver.

 

sweet summer

This summer started out great.  It was such a wonderful change of pace to have the kids at home instead of carting them to school and back.  I missed them during the day and the school schedule with it's early mornings and middle-of-naptime pick-ups was such a drag.  

The first week was idyllic.  We did a major paper mache project (any paper mache project with young children is major), we read books, we played games...I was very engaged with the kids.  Now, not so much.  It's like dating - you just can't keep up that level of attention and interest forever.  Life gets in the way.  While we still do some fun things like going to the beach, the pool, the park, etc.; we're not quite so "into" eachother.  There are large chunks of time where, to be honest, I'm not 100% sure what the kids are up to or even where they are (within reason - I know they are somewhere on our property).  There is the constant cleaning that comes from three children at home.  The Laundry.  Meal preparations.  We run errands.  Lots of errands.

That was this morning - the fitness club for my yoga class, library to return and check out books, fabric store for a new pillowcase-to-be, health food store for some salt, grocery store for watermelon...it was one of those mornings.  As we were heading home I started thinking about the summer, how it was slipping by in moments of "here and there" and "this and that."  I was wondering what I could do to reinvigorate ourselves back into projects and activities and being more connected.  

Once home I started putting away groceries and when I turned around I saw this:

Each kid quietly absorbed in a book they had picked at the library.  My heart eased.  We're okay - summer is lazy days and silent moments.  It's not necessarily the big trips and events.  It's coming home to a cool house on a hot day with a tantalizing stack of books.  I remembered these days from my own childhood and how much I loved them.  My hope is that my children will look back with similar satisfaction and fondness.  

Here's to sweet summers - past and present. 

loss

This kid just can't keep his teeth in!

My reaction to the teeth loss has been surprising.  It breaks my heart.  My first child, my young son, is growing up.  He is slowly shedding his childhood right before my eyes.  A wiggle here, a shift there, a little tug and then it's gone.  Growing into the void comes adulthood; slowly, awkwardly.  The rough edges will smooth with time and resistance.  I observe it all, feeling helpless and unable to slow the steady march on. 

february lady, take two

It's done!  It's actually done!  After knitting the dang thing twice, it's finito!

And I love it!  Totally worth the effort (squared).  It's the perfect thing to wear on those days when I feel like I have nothing to show for the work I do.  When the dishes breed in dark corners and the dirty laundry magically reappears in the hamper and the children are perpetually hungry and the to-do list gets longer and longer...those are the days I can wear my sweater.  I can account for a bit of time.  See this sleeve?  That is how I made it through many unnaturally long showings of the Wiggles movie with my daughter curled at my side.  The garter edge?  I told Russell I was off-duty and locked myself in the bedroom for a couple hours.  The gull lace?  Hours of sitting outside, talking with Grant as he rode his bike or colored while his brother and sister slept.  It's a history of stolen moments, time carved out of a busy life.  Time when I sat still, only my fingers moving.  Time slowed by the clicking of needles.  Time spent listening - sometimes to silence, sometimes to chaos.  Sometimes to sweet conversations.  It's  something to show for those moments that are passing so quickly.  And it's beautiful to me.
 

the memories

The other day I was hauling a watermelon into the house from the car and I had a major flashback to last year at this time...only it wasn't a watermelon I was lugging- it was a bun in the oven.  All of a sudden I remembered the hot days, the extra weight, the itchy skin on my belly.  I remembered how I felt like my innards were wrapped around my spine and the baby wanted to take over that space too, thank you.  In fact, my memories of last year at this time remind me that I felt like someone had cut open my belly, inserted a watermelon directly into my body cavity and then stretched my skin back over it, squishing all pre-existing organs to new and cramped locations.  Yes.  That is exactly how I felt.  How grateful I am to have our melon on the outside.  And how my heart (and innards) aches for my sweet sister who is feeling the ummmm...bounty in her own belly. 

last week

 

last year

what's on your shelf?

Listening to NPR today I heard reference to "the five-foot shelf" - the amount of reading material needed to give a person a solid liberal education.  The concept has had me thinking about which books I consider essential reading.  I'm realizing that while I have read a lot of books, I haven't read a wide range of titles.  The more I think about it, the more that last statement becomes more and more of a gross understatement. 

I'm thinking that we need to designate a literal five-foot shelf for our "Loughmiller required reading" in our home and start filling it.  Here's what I'd put on it tonight...

The Bible
The Book of Mormon
Collected Works of Shakespeare
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Ethics for the New Millennium - His Holiness the Dalai Lama
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Angle of Repose - Wallace Stegner
The Odyssey - Homer

A couple of the books I haven't read but I'm sure would belong
The Koran
A People's History of the United States - Howard Zinn

What would you put on your shelf?

how we eat - day 7

The last day of the "How We Eat" week!  I was thinking it would be nice to go out with a bang but instead it's barely a pop.  Maybe a little crinkle.

Breakfast:  Russell, Grant and Anna:  toast, cheese and yogurt.  Me: egg sandwich, broiled grapefruit.
Lunch:  tuna pasta and enchiladas
Dinner:  enchiladas and soup

I really dislike leftovers.  Unless it's leftover cookies in which case I take one for the team and clean the plate.  But...it's Sunday and it's nice to take a break from cooking, so leftovers it was.  No creative re-working...just soup and such warmed over.  The bright spot of the day was the broiled grapefruit.  I was weak and bought the golden orb from Florida.  It sat on the counter for a few days while I contemplated its demise.  This morning I had an inspiration and knew it's end had come. 

broiled grapefruit

• slice grapefruit in half

• sprinkle about 1 Tbsp of brown sugar over the top of each half

• broil until top is beginning to brown

• CAREFULLY, with tongs, remove halves from pan.  THE MELTED SUGAR WILL BE VERY HOT AND WILL BURN TENDER FINGERS AS IT DRIPS ITS WAY DOWN THEM.  Not that I can personally attest to that or anything.

The presentation of the grapefruit is just beautiful.  The rind is slightly browned and the pulp is bulging over the top, gleaming with hot, syrupy sugar.  And the taste?  Divine!  The heat mellows out the tartness and the sugar sweetens it just enough...maybe we'll grow an indoor grapefruit tree.

---

The thing that I love the most about food is that it's something everyone (hopefully) encounters every day.  It's an integral part of every culture.  It's a part of religious ceremonies the world over.  It's present at every major human event.  It's symbolic.  It carries memories.  It sustains life.  It defines who we are.  We really are what we eat. 

On the eve of the eve of the inauguration, it is fitting to mention that food is very political (Tuesday's presidential luncheon, thoughtfully, will be drawing heavily from President Lincoln's favorite foods).  We vote with our mouths.  The decisions we make to bring food to the table are great indeed.  I can be the change I want to see in the world.  With my mouth I vote for freedom of choice, for families spending time together, for health, for strong communities, for financial freedom, for healthy soil, for learning, for gratitude, for generosity...We ARE the change, one meal at a time. 

Amen, Hallelujah, and LET'S EAT!

2009 resolutions

First, before I dive into what I'd like to accomplish this year, let's see how I did last year, shall we?

1.  go on a backpacking trip with the kids
2.  finish Grandma Tutu's book
3.  go fishing
4.  spend a day in Portland with Kates
5.  learn how to make a DVD with our video clips
6.  do a 52 week art challenge
7.  play disc golf
8.  sit outside and sketch
9.  go for a bike ride with Russell
10.  make someone's day
11.  read the Book of Mormon three times
12.  study Isaiah
13.  learn how to make cheese
14.  participate in a service project
15.  go kayaking
16.  teach a pre-natal yoga class
17.  go to the Tulip Festival
18.  do something totally selfish
19.  do something totally selfless
20.  help with this year's farmers' market
21.  go to a concert
22.  memorize the practice hymn each month
23.  learn a new skill
24.  take the kids on a "field trip"
25.  get caught up on my recent scrapbooks
26.  have a theme party
27.  write a rough rough draft for my book
28.  try all the restaurants in The Dalles
29.  have a pajama day with with the kids
30.  visit a national park

Wow.  That's kind of lame.  I did have a baby, though.  I like having babies because it's a great excuse for not doing all kinds of things.

So, unlike the last two years, I'm not going to do the ___ things before I'm ___.  Too much pressure.  I'm not so into pressure at the moment.  I've thought a lot about stress lately and I was trying to figure out where a shift happened.  I have a really distinct memory from my college days of walking to our Student Union Building, thinking about the long list of things I needed to accomplish that day.  I had a ton to do but had figured out a way to structure my day so I could get them all done.  I felt so alive and vibrant.  Like I could do anything, I was so...able.  Now, a list like that would start my heart pounding and the tears so start welling.  What has happened to me?  I'm still driven and passionate, aren't I?  After some contemplation, I think I know.  Life is all about seasons.  We do different things at different points in our lives.  I have little control over my days at the moment.  I am rarely able finish any task in one sitting (well, I can usually accomplish a trip to the head but that's about it).  I am always being pulled away by some crisis or request or something.  Without control over my schedule, a list of tasks is daunting.  It's simply not that season in my life.  It's about doing what I am able and not being overly attached to "the list."  It's about being happy with what I DO accomplish.   

Well, how's that for a big, fat caveat before the unveiling of my goals!  Nothing like setting my expectations nice and high!

Without further excuses, here's the list for 2009

1. make a decent loaf of whole wheat bread (good enough to give to someone else [that i like - i'm great at making bread for someone i don't like])
2.  learn how to make authentic tortillas and tamales
3.  finish two quilts
4.  finish Rhett's baby album
5.  knit something for myself
6.  finish two values in my personal progress
7.  try rollerskiing
8.  learn something new
9.  participate in some sort of athletic competition
10.  take grant and anna out on a date each month (separately)

Well, there it is.  In black and white.  Wish me luck!