Today I feel like this

Kind of tired, in a daze, and my clothes are too tight.

Thoughts about attachment

In our foster training classes, (which were really good and so much more helpful than I expected) we spent one session talking about how children form attachments. I had looked forward to that topic since the beginning of our training, because truthfully, I felt lost when it came to connecting with James and forming a bond with him. To start out, our trainers asked us to name some of the ways we thought children formed attachments. I don't remember what answers were given, but I do remember the answers I was thinking of: plan activities together, talk with them, have fun together, try to understand their perspective...simple things, but things I was having a hard time figuring out how to do. Andy and James were already great at these things - they could enjoy similar activities, talk about topics I couldn't really join in on (I think we all know I'm alluding to sports here!) and I'm pretty sure Andy understands the mind of a teenage boy better than I do. After a few guesses as to how children form attachment to their caregiver, our trainers prompted us to think about how babies form bonds with their parents. Immediately my thoughts (and everyone else's) clarified: a child forms an attachment when you consistently meet their needs. This realization felt like a gift, like I could suddenly breathe again. It seemed stunningly simple, and in some ways so much easier than what I had been trying to do.

That evening of trainging was several months ago, but it comes back to me often these days. In many ways, the contrast between taking care of Hazel and taking care of James is significant, but in others, I find myself amazed (and often amused) at how similar their needs are.

One of the things we tolerate and even enjoy about babies and very young children is that they are completely uninhibited - they will tell you in plain words that they want you to watch them, adore them, give them every bit of attention and love you possibly can. But as they grow into older children and adults, we expect them to become less demanding, and to monitor their needs and express them in acceptable ways. But that need really doesn't change. If we are honest, we are all begging to be seen, known, rejoiced over, loved. We just find socially acceptable ways to express it. Usually. :) I am often amused that James has no qualms about asking me to stop everything and just watch him do something. I don't recall expecting my parents to do this, but I have a pretty strong hunch it's because I didn't question whether I was truly known and loved and cared for - they had built that bond with me since the day I was born. James hasn't had that with us, and truthfully has received it only in bits and pieces before living with us.

So when I'm put off by his overt request for attention and I'm tempted to say I don't have time, or I need to finish cleaning the kitchen first and then I'll come watch him play Bears vs. Packers on theWii, I need to remind myself of this. We're essentially in the "newborn" phase with him right now, and accordingly, I need to be generous with my attention and love.

On a side note, this explains why I'm so tired - we have TWO newborns!! :)

I think I feel like myself these days

Since becoming a mother, I've struggled a bit with what it means to be me, as a mom. Many of the things I enjoy or do are either no longer possible, or possible in much smaller amounts, especially now that I am back at work. I don't have the luxury of baking whenever I want, or long trips to the grocery store and running errands, or coffee with a dear friend whenever we can squeeze it in. Now those things often have to be planned, and I have a very cute someone else's eating and sleeping schedule to consider and work around. At first it seemed very difficult, even impossible sometimes, for me to go anywhere or get anything accomplished, which apparently is very important to me, because I found the thought of things always being this way a bit suffocating.

But lately things seem...easier. It helps that Hazel is a little older now (even though I still want her to be as tiny as the day she was born!), and getting a little more sleep keeps my perspective in balance. But I also think my self, or whatever it is that makes us who we are, is shifting and evolving to become a mother. Even though I have been a mom for several months now, I feel I am still becoming. On some level, I must have assumed it would happen instantly, because the process of becoming a mother has taken me by surprise. Often in ways that reveal my true heart: I have been humbled, surprised, embarassed and grateful. But I think mostly humbled.

Baking =

Bonding
James stays with us almost every weekend. For the most part he's all boy. He loves sports, video games, pranks, eating, more sports, more video games...in short, we have almost nothing in common. Except for that eating part. :) We both love food - eating it, talking about it, and now making it. I try to set aside time for us to make something together each time he is with us. Usually he acts a bit impatient with how long the process takes or how many steps it involves, but he's always very proud of the finished product.

Math Lessons
I always thought I wouldn't do what my parents (wisely) did and turn every day moments into little lessons, but today I found myself giving a mini math lesson in the middle of making a loaf of bread. Hey, what better time to prove you really do need math? :)

An Inexpensive Activity
As a super-intelligent person, I have quickly come to a new and startling revelation...kids are expensive! But a little flour, butter and eggs make for  a pretty inexpensive way to spend our Saturday morning.

Delicious Bread (if you have even the slightest interest in food, you will love this site. I'm obsessed with everything she makes)
I hope. Waiting for it to cool.

Crash Course Update

Considering it's been an unmentionably long time since I've posted, and given the fact that our lives have changed considerably since then, I thought it might be appropriate to have an "update on the McCanns" post before I dive into the jungle of thoughts I've been wading through lately.

Last November 19th, Hazel Eden joined our little family and has been bringing us laughter, love, joy, and many sleepless nights ever since. :)

A while ago, (ok a long time ago) I posted about a life-changing decision and never explained what it was. While this is a very long story that won't all be told on this blog, the short of it is that we are soon to become a family of four! James, one of Andy's previous students, will be coming to live with us soon. Though we are a bit terrified at becoming parents to an almost teenager (What are we thinking?!? Teenagers are awful...from what I remember of being a teenager.) we are also excited to have James as part of our family.

I guess those are the only real changes. We have the same jobs, live in the same place, drive the same cars...yet somehow everything is completely different. Including how much time we have. We've never had loads of free time, but now I've realized that the phrase "free time" is actually a joke. There is no such thing as free time! Time you use for one thing means sacrificing something else, so we find ourselves trying to choose the best things to spend our time on. And speaking of time, mine is gone.

Check out our new (and sort of temporary) blog here.

In case you haven't already met him

This is Ozzie. Can usually be found on a pillow (exhibit A)

or as close as humanly possible to Andy or myself.

 (exhibits B, C, and D)

He is obviously starved for attention.

Really shouldn't be baking but...

I'm mulling over a life-changing decision, have a huge (and boring) project to finish, and my house could definitely use a good cleaning.

So of course, I am baking.

Like a Hallmark movie

If you know me very well, you know I don't do the overly emotional, sensationalized, feel-good type of movies. I don't look down on them or think others shouldn't watch them...it's just that I don't often find myself in the mood to cry, so I usually avoid them. Unfortunately, I seemed to find myself on the set of a Hallmark movie the other day (one of the worst offenders for the uninitiated).


Throughout our worship service on Sunday morning, the smells of our annual Thanksgiving potluck wafted through the auditorium, making it seem warm and cozy as we listened to Pastor David's message. After the service drew to a close, tables, chairs, and fall decorations flew into place in a matter of minutes, and it wasn't long before the auditorium was again full with our church family. But this time we sat before steaming plates, enjoying community, fellowship, and more food than we could possibly eat. I had not planned to stay for the meal, but as I walked through the auditorium and out to my car, I regretted my decision. I had thought I'd want the time to run home and change before I had to be back for a 12:30 mini golf outing, but as I drove out of the parking lot, I began to feel sorry for myself. Now I had only half an hour before I had to be back, and I did still need to eat...I told myself I should have just planned to stay in the first place. I'm sure no one would have known or cared that I hadn't signed up to be there or bring any food, but my stubborness won and I left. Reluctantly, I headed to McDonald's on my way home, all the while thinking of the great food I'd just left behind.

Since I was in a hurry, I headed to the drive-thru, only to change my mind last minute and swerve into a parking space. I grabbed my purse and headed in, still feeling a bit on the crabby side. As soon as I got in line, I became aware of the man standing in front of me - he was bent over and leaning on a cane, and I could tell he was wearing at least a couple pairs of pants. His clothing was dirty, and it seemed safe to assume he was going through hard times at best, and most likely had been living on the street. I watched as he pulled several coins out of his pocket and waited to order. Then I noticed the woman standing in front of him in line. Her husband had his back to us, ordering their food, and her two young children stood flanking her on either side. She had turned completely around and was unabashedly staring at the somewhat disheveled man in between us. Her eyes held a mixture of curiousity, caution, disdain...but not a trace of compassion. She held her hands in front of her two children as though he may lunge for one of them at any moment.


Immediately I felt a lump rise in my throat - less than a mile away, my church family was gathered together with more food than they probably knew what to do with, and here in front of me was a man who had exactly 75 cents for his coffee. He asked for 6 creamers - I assumed to make his coffee more filling. I debated whether to risk embarassing him by offering to buy him food, but quickly decided it was worth it and stepped up next to him.


"Can I get you something to go with your coffee?" I asked him.


He turned and looked at me, then his eyes twinkled (I'm not kidding...I told you it was like a Hallmark movie!) and he grinned and said "How about a new pair of legs and a good head of hair?" He laughed at his own joke, then said "No, thank you but I'm ok." He turned around and took his coffee to his seat.


I quickly ordered my food and decided to order him something anyway, but inside I felt conflicted. So many thoughts were running through my head: was I really so spoiled that I thought I was suffering to eat at McDonalds? What must it be like to have people stare at you as though your very presence is a threat to their personal happiness? Why was there more than enough food for the people who already had plenty, and not nearly enough for someone who needed it? How did he have the resiliency to smile and make me laugh when he had more needs than I will probably ever know? And most of all, why had God chosen to use me inspite of my rotten attitude?


Now here's the un-Hallmark moment: I was most bothered by the fact that there was no tidy answer. Was it wrong for our church to gather together in fellowship and enjoy a good meal? No. Whose fault was it that the man in front of me didn't have enough to buy more than a small cup of coffee? Unknowable. What difference did the one meal I bought him make when he doesn't know where his next will come from? And how much impact will this experience truly have on my life? Sure, it may soften my heart for a day, or even a few days, but how long will it take until I am once again consumed by my schedule, my priorities, making sure my needs (wants?) are met?


I drove away from McDonald's feeling as though every detail that day had been carefully orchestrated to jolt my heart out of the wrong direction it was headed in. I didn't feel warm and fuzzy, but I did feel, and that is something I can turn off much too easily. So I guess in retrospect, a good Hallmark movie now and then might be ok.

I like grocery shopping like some people like a cold beer. After a bad day, nothing is quite as soothing as a trip to my favorite food sanctuary. It calms me to remember that no matter how long I was at work, how badly a meeting went, or what kind of disarray the house might be in, we will still need to eat, and food will still taste good. I love picking our apples for the week (should I stick with tried and true favorite Braeburn, or will the Fuji's be better this week?) and finding jewel-like tomatoes still on the vine.
On my most luxurious visits, I wander into the long aisle of gourmet cheeses and read the descriptions below each one. Every once in a while I buy one to try - what an extravagant thing to be able to eat something I have never before tasted!
Maybe its an expensive form of therapy, but considering it doubles as our grocery bill, I'm going to consider it an approved expenditure.

Surprisingly good

Sliced raw zucchini and black bean salsa.

Its not that I'm that heatlhy...I just really wanted salsa, and we didn't have any chips in the house.

Add it to your list of things to try, especially now when stores are practically giving zucchini away!

I'm going to skip the explanation/excuses for why I haven't posted in months, because none of them are interesting or valid, so I'm sparing myself the wasted energy and you the wasted time. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've done away with any readers I may have once had by smothering any hope that I would post on this blog again.

So I've been participating in a little experiment over the last week, and will attempt to continue this experiment over the next three weeks. One of Andy's fellow teachers challenged us (and everyone else he has any influence with) to cut back significantly on our food allowance, with a two-fold purpose in mind. The most forthright purpose is to donate the money we didn't spend on ourselves to the Heifer International organization, which gives families a sustainable gift (usually an animal) as a means of becoming more self-reliant. The less measurable second intent of this project is to realize what it means to survive on $1/day, as much of the world does.

A few weeks ago, before we had heard about this idea, something reminded me of one my favorite family quotes. I think Daniel was about 3 when he used to say this, and the frankness of it always made us laugh. It always applied to food, and it was usually in reference to something favorite, like candy. My mom would give him what she deemed the appropriate amount, and he would more often than not contest that she hadn't given him enough and ask for more. Not one to be swayed by begging, my mom would firmly explain that she had given him what she thought he needed - enough. At this point, he would become quite emotional and say "I know mom, but I want too much!" This had the effect of laughter on anyone in the near vicinity, though it didn't seem to work on my mom. I'm not sure what brought this memory back to me, but it hasn't really left my mind since then. There have been several times that I consciously tell myself I need something, like new sandals, or a cute summery shirt, or a tall cup of caffeinated goodness. But really, I don't need much of anything. I know this, and I sometimes comfort myself by just knowing this and buying it anyway. But this past week, I realized I have completely lost touch with what I need.

I haven't exactly figured out what it is I really do need to survive, and since I live in America, I am virtually guaranteed that I will never have to find out. But I have nailed down for a fact that I consistently want more than enough, in ways that go far beyond the bounds of food and basic necessities of life.

On a more basic level, I've also figured out that for $1/day, rice and beans are your very good friends.

I like...

• guilt free shopping, which includes buying gifts (because how can you feel guilty for spending money on someone else?) and using gift cards from thoughtful friends.
  
• making breakfast, and having the time to sit down and eat it. Today's special: whole wheat honey and cherry pancakes; I'm still full and its 2:30 in the afternoon!
• throwing things away. Don't worry mom, no important papers, and no keepsakes. Just junk. : )
• new music
  
• and old music
• and listening to music while doing things I don't particularly like, such as laundry, or cleaning the bathroom.
• making to-do lists
• and laughing at myself when I realize I've just made one week's worth of projects for a single day off

a few thoughts

I am probably writing this mostly to myself, since anyone who checks this blog on even the most erratic basis has been consistently disappointed, but I just need to write today.

I had a conversation the other day with a friend, and it has left a nagging question in my mind that I really can't answer. Or perhaps the question was already there, and it's just uncomfortably close to the surface now. As we talked about the ways our lives have changed since we last talked, we stumbled into one of our recurring, yet always unanswered, questions: what does it really look like to be a Christian? How does it make us different, and would the people I come into contact with on a daily basis be surprised to hear me profess my faith?

A beautiful, though I think only partial, answer has been formulating in my mind since then. I feel that part of being a Christian has to be the value we assign to each other. To know that every person is a reflection of the character of our Creator completely shifts the way I view someone. If this is true, I have no right to marginalize, or to constrain people to a rigid role my mind has assigned to them, or to value someone more or less according to what I think they can offer me. I know that this answer ignores a few key points of salvation and grace, but right now this thought won't leave me, and I feel like there must be a reason for that.

I've struggled so much lately with my job - I am around someone who constantly and unashamedly makes fun of anyone who is different than himself. Last Friday, this involved a female Episcopalian minister who came into our office, who he proceeded to compare to (or perhaps just decided she actually was) a lesbian (even though she was married), a muslim (?!), a tree-hugger, and a women's right activist. All of this before he had even met her! Disgusting enough on its own, but even more so when you know that this same person is a professing Christian, goes to church, teaches Sunday School to children, and makes sure we all pray together before we start our work day. Words often escape me on days like that.

I don't know what the whole answer is, but surely it must be informed by this? I always cringe when people pick a Christian who doesn't exemplify their idea of God and say "If that's what being a Christian is, I don't want anything to do with it!" I wish I could direct their attention to someone else, in part because the person they are pointing out usually is a poor example, but also because it seems like a weak excuse to pick out the person who just proves your point. But right now, I can see how hard it is to look past something like that. I'm not giving up, but I am certainly questioning how faith and grace can truly exist in what seems like such a hateful heart. And even more, I am wondering what it is that I am blind to.

A different world

I'm home in Michigan this weekend visiting family. I've only been here for 17 hours, but already I've forgotten all my usual stresses.

Normal Friday: rise at 5:30, drive almost an hour to get to work, rush to see our patients on schedule, most likely fit an extra patient or two in at the end of the day, and fight the traffic to get home.

Today: slept in until 10, sat down for a leisurely cup of coffee (3 actually), visited with my extended family over a meal I didn't lift a finger to prepare, went to hear my little brother play in his band for the state festivals, and went to a talent show (in which he won 3rd place!) I also managed to fit in a rousing game of Mario Kart with Andy; not surprisingly, he won.

I could get used to not working.

I have a recurring daydream which surfaces periodically, usually provoked by a story or picture depicting the lure of a world somehow different than my own. What would it be like, I wonder, to live somewhere new, where no one knows me, where nothing has been given the chance to grow boring and mundane?

The other day I was listening to NPR and they were interviewing random people who live on Route 50, an interstate stretching from the Pacific to the Atlantic. As each new interviewee answered questions and revealed their perspective, my mind began to wonder what my life would be like if I lived in Eureka, Nevada or Leawood, Kansas? What job would I have? Who would I know? Who would people think I was? It always seems so much more adventurous and quixotic than my own predictable life.

I always feel guilty when I think like this, because I'm actually quite happy and feel confident that I couldn't, and wouldn't, leave the world I know, no matter how tempting the mysterious unknown.

Concurrently, I am reminded of the blessed ties that bind; my loving husband, friends I cannot imagine losing, and a family I already miss.

The romance of the unknown pales in comparison to my treasured witnesses, the ones who are there to see and listen to the mundane details of my life, to verify that I experience, grow, change, exist.

Guilty as charged on all accounts

Blog abuse, blog block, blog neglect.

I have no excuse, at least no excuse that everyone else doesn't have as well. Yes I've been busy, taken up with the celebrations and festivities, yes work has been crazy with everyone trying to get their appointments in before the end of the year.

But mostly I just haven't had much to say. Perhaps its been the business of my life that keeps my mind to preoccupied to think about much more than getting through the day. But I know there are people far busier than I who find time to think, write, and challenge themselves. So I'm left with only a few conclusions, one of which seems to be the most likely:

My brain is getting lazy.

I'm not really sure how I'm going to fix this problem, but I promise to blog more whether I make progress or not.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas with their friends and families. Mine was filled with delicious food, sleeping in late, and of course some thoughtful presents. Michigan didn't provide a white Christmas, but it still felt like home.

The short version

Here are my long-awaited (I don't know how you've all been sleeping at night) before/after pictures. I actually typed out the whole long, painful story, but just as I was uploading the last picture, my computer froze up, and I don't have the energy to do it again. Suffice it to say that while the difference between the beginning and the end seems negligible, three different boxes of hair dye and finally a 3 hour, 4-procedure process at the salon are the undocumented footage. My hair has now been dark brown, horizontally striped lighter brown, black, and slightly green in the past week. (by the way, those weren't all happening at the same time. Each color had its own reign of terror)

Proof of Some of Andy's Hidden Abilities

Here is a photo of Andy in his high school musical, "Grease". Good luck finding him. If you're lucky enough, perhaps you will have a chance to view this video sometime...

Here is proof of Andy's hair dyeing abilities. Clearly, there are no missed spots here. I rest my case.

She trusted me...again!

Even though I missed a significant portion of her hair last time, Casi decided to give me another chance. Tonight we both helped each other dye our hair, and the results were much better. Niether of us has any stripes, patches, or spots in our hair, so we're already a step ahead of last time.


Here's Casi's before picture, where she's warning me that I had better not mess up this time!
















And now deciding if she likes it (and also if we can still be friends)















She likes it!!
















Soon to come...Janell's before and afters!