Resolutions

New Year's Resolutions intrigue me.  Not because I like making them, and not because they produce any lasting change.

Here's my theory: people always have time for what they truly value.  If you truly love reading, you will find time to read.  If you truly value baking, then you will find time to bake (I don't, so I won't).  I've found that even the busiest of people have time for their special pleasure. 

When someone says, "I would really like to do x, but I just don't have time for it," then I know that they don't really want to do it.  They just want me to think they want to do it.

Recently someone saw me reading a book and said, "You're so lucky that you have time to read. I just don't have that kind of time."  It's true that I am blessed with large amounts of time right now (although now that Kekoa is more distractible while eating, I find that time slipping away!).  But this same person is nearly constantly posting on Facebook.  Surely 15 of those minutes could have been used on a book?  -unless of course, she didn't actually want to read a book, but felt that she needed to make an excuse. 

The same goes for New Year's Resolutions: they reveal what people think they should value.

For example: Joe says that his resolution is to lose weight and eat healthier.  That tells me that he thinks he should value his health.  But he doesn't actually value his health.  If he actually valued his health, then it wouldn't be a resolution so much as a way of life.  Our deepest priorities have a tendency of becoming a part of us - if you have to mechanically perform the motions, then you don't really care about it.  Self-discipline only takes you so far.

Do you want to make a resolution that will stick this year?  Your behavior will change when your beliefs and priorities do.  And it will have nothing to do with the new year. 
 
So anyway.  Resolutions are kind of treated as a joke in our culture.  But I find them far more telling.  They are the indicators of what our culture is and what we think we ought to be.

Perhaps more importantly, they indicate what we never will be.

Half a Year

Dear loyal fans of yours truly,

You are quite lucky to get a post from me commemorating the advent of my six month birthday - after all, it requires that I take time away from trying to get at the wrapping paper under the tree.  You're welcome.

This has been a great month for me because there's a lot of paper lying around.  I love eating paper.  If it hadn't been for eating paper, Mommy might not have noticed my new tooth at all when she was fishing pieces out of my mouth.



Helping Mommy wrap.

 
I've been especially helpful in Christmas preparations as Mommy's little helper.  These days, I'm a big fan of Mommy.

Oh I'm sorry, did I say big fan? That doesn't quite capture it. These days, I'm a IF MOMMY DOESN'T WALK INTO THE ROOM RIGHT NOW I'M GOING TO DIE fan of Mommy. It's fun. I'm working on scaring off every babysitter within a fifty-five mile radius.

Another way I scare off babysitters is by being a very busy little boy.  I like to practice standing.  I am pretty excited to get my busy little hands on more of the world. Must. touch. all. the. things.  

This month I also learned how to express my preferences with my voice.  I can pick which book to read, which page to stay on the longest, when I want to be picked up (always.  I shouldn't have to express this one.  It should be assumed.), and when I want to drink from Mommy's water bottle.

Speaking of Mommy's water bottle, Mommy got tired of sharing her water and gave me my own sippy cup.  I love it!  I can hold it and drink out of it all by myself.  Sometimes I don't want to stop drinking from it, but I don't want any more water, so I just let it dribble out of my mouth.

I heard Mommy tell Daddy that this new stage of communication has been delightful, because she's getting to know me as a person instead of a passive observer.  But do not be deceived: it's been a cold hard road for me.  One day I expressed my preference to read Good Night, Spot for the tenth time instead of taking a nap - and Mommy said no.

In fact, she told me that contrary to my opinion, I was not the center of the universe and my wish was not her command! 

Surely, Grandma, you can see that Mommy clearly does not understand the universe.  You know that the world revolves around me.  Please contact her and correct her misconceptions ASAP.

Six Months

[ed. note: this shot may have done me in.  He got so anxious to hold the camera that he flung Kekoa teddy off his back and somehow managed to inch forward.  NOT. READY.]

 

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas - thanks for all the wrapping paper!

Love,

Kekoa



[ed. note, part 2: all sleep deprivation, center-of-the-universe comments, and kidding aside, this really has been a delightful month.  We are sooo enjoying getting to know Kekoa as a human being with likes, dislikes, and a great big personality.  Instead of stimulating Kekoa, we now get to interact with him, and it's so. much. fun.  We are loving his giggles and smiles and excitement and the stubborn will power he puts into achieving new milestones.]

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just a Little Crazy

This month, all the work we've done toward correcting our sleep debt from the first two months of Kekoa's life was erased. Kaput.  It all started with an innocent introduction:

But ended in angry red splotches all over Kekoa's neck, arms, and torso:

It looks like a self-portrait, doesn't it?  That's one talented baby. 

The result is that our darling little boy started napping in 15-30 minute increments and waking up every 45-60 minutes at night with the itchies.

And then!  As if that wasn't enough to produce some eye-rubbing, he started teething.  We didn't even notice until the first tooth cut because we just assumed the fussiness was due to the rash (so much for parent-of-the-year!).

I'm a fairly organized person.  I keep a careful calendar.  We are punctual people who like to be prepared way ahead of time.

It's just a little bit scary when you don't even notice your decreased mental functions until you start making stupid mistakes.  Twice now I've written things on the wrong day on my calendar.  The other night I wrote the wrong time and we showed up as the party was ending.  [they took pity on us and pulled out the leftovers.  that was nice of them.]

I was thinking about writing a post about sleep deprivation, and I thought "Haha, I should write about how I'm afraid to even post anything because I don't know it will come out right."  As a joke, right?

Funny joke.  I came here and realized that my half-finished rough draft had been accidentally published, sans pictures and with random sentence fragments reminding me where to start again.  So I guess you guys get to see my editing process. *sigh*

(Oh wait.  Kekoa wrote that...so clearly it was his fault).

Is this what it's like to be losing your mind?  You don't notice anything different because you lose it gradually...bit by bit...but in the isolated moments of sanity, you realize that your marbles are clattering around on the floor. 

I'm starting to feel a distinct lack of self-confidence.  So many times I've walked up to a doorstep and started to second-guess myself: "Is this the right time?  Is this the right day?  Oh my gosh, what if they're in their pjs?"

The rash is mostly clear.  The first tooth has cut, the second is on its way.  My leg is jiggling uncontrollably because I don't often drink caffeine, but lately I've been taking just a little bit more...

Will I read this post tomorrow and discover some uber-embarrassing mistake?  I can only wonder.

But in the meantime, at least I'm oblivious to the crazy, as long as it lasts.

An Introvert Confronts Weakness

Here's something you probably know about me: I am an introvert. 

(If you don't know this about me, hi, have we met?  Because I'm guessing we haven't).

I am not an introvert who feels the need to pretend to be an extrovert.  I am quite at peace with my introverted-ness, thankyouverymuch.  I am proud of the strengths of my personality.

But oh, the weaknesses.

Contrary to popular extroverted belief, introverts don't hate people.  But they are more highly reactive to their environments. They process events differently.  Some say that introverts process stimuli more deeply ("a rich inner life," they say), and that accounts for the greater energy expense.  I am not so smug as to make that assertion.

Extroverts tend to recharge through social interaction.  Introverts tend to recharge through alone time.  So while I may enjoy myself at a party as much as the next person, it depletes my emotional resources.  I don't mind so much.  I'm pretty careful not to overbook myself, because it's best for all concerned - trust me (better yet, ask my husband).

But God's been convicting me of something lately, related to my introvertedness.

You know those spiritual gift tests?  My spiritual gifts correlate pretty strongly with my personality.  And down there at the bottom, every time, is this little thing called hospitality.

Yeah, hospitality.  I'm pretty bad at it.  You know that moment in most churches where they tell you to greet those around you?  HATE. IT.  It makes me squirm.  It makes me stutter.  It makes my heart pound and palms sweat like most people fear heights or snakes.  Because in my head, I hear: "Hey everyone!  Go shake the hand of that stranger!  You won't have enough time to say anything important, just chit-chat for a while! Oh, and if you don't do it, you're gonna look like a Scrooge."

Ugh. Ick. Ack. Blech. *shudder*

(On a side note, our home church doesn't do that.  I wonder how much of my initial attraction when we were church-hunting was subconsciously influenced by the lack of squirmy awkwardness of an obliged greeting?)

But here's the thing: hospitality is still a command.  For introverted, non-small-talking, socially awkward me.

(Disclaimer: in the below paragraphs, I'm not blaming my mom at all.  She's practicing her gifts, and that's awesome.)

My mom is a ten-talent hospitality personality.  Open up her home?  Sure, no problem.  With decaf, half-caf, hot cocoa, and ten different kinds of tea.  Growing up, we had baby showers, wedding showers, craft parties, cast parties, swimming parties, holiday meals...even two wedding receptions in our backyard.  You name it, my mom hosted it. 

I am the man in the parable with one talent.  BUT.  It's my responsibility to refuse to bury it.  I have to use it, and trust that even though my "interest rate" makes drying paint look like it's on fast-forward, God will use it.

I've been trying to do better about having people over.  About greeting the lady in the church lobby.  About initiating relationships.  About maintaining them.  And guys, it's so hard.

My lessons started small: letting go of the perfectionism that wants my one-talent hospitality to somehow look and feel like my mom's ten-talent.  Wanting to invite everyone over.  Wanting to let people stay as late as they want.  Wanting to be able to revive a lagging conversation with a joke or sheer energy.

But I am not called to this.  I am an introvert.  I *have* to keep a light schedule,or else I begin to snap at my family.  I *have* to at some point go to bed, because I am not a nice person otherwise.   I *have* to share what we have, and not try to overstretch myself with exotic menus. I *have* to focus my relationship-building on small groups of people because otherwise I get overwhelmed and my family suffers.

 I have to allow for my weaknesses, even as I confront them.  To ignore my weaknesses would be to take an alcoholic to an open bar and expect him to stay sober.

So....moral of the story is: I'm an introvert.  But that does not excuse me from obedience to commands.  I have to trust that should God require me to serve Him through a late-night, exotic dinner party, then He will provide the grace and resources necessary to do so.

But in the meantime, I need to develop my one talent in accordance with my personality and ability.  I may not be called to host weekly get-togethers, but I am called, always, to love those around me with an open heart. 

What's your one talent?

Story Time!

I was homeschooled, and therefore, our version of "parties" in high school was to go someplace with our parents and little siblings and meet up with other kids and their parents.  Wild and crazy, I know.

One party which was actually a business meeting for our parents, four of us high school girls organized a game of Catch Phrase among the kids (remember when Catch Phrase was popular?  Those were the days).  We divided the teams evenly according to reading ability, put the youngest kids on our laps so they could "help" us, and started to play.

One boy (how old was he?  Not sure, but probably 6-8) got passed the disc.  "Okay," he said.  "It's one of your private parts."

The circle froze.  Horrified, the other kids looked at us older girls, pleading with their eyes for us to do something.

I practically threw the four year old on my lap across the room and scrambled to come to his aid before any homeschooled little ears burned off in embarrassment.  I peeked over his shoulder...

It all made sense now.  I whispered a clue in his ear to use.

"It's the opposite of top," he said.

"Bottom!"  The kids all shouted.  We older girls tried desperately not to laugh too loud.  Crisis averted.

Or so I thought.  The disc was passed around the circle several more times.  Points were awarded.  And it came back to our friend....

"It's one of your private parts again!"

I was faster this time.  "Say it's the part of a chair that you sit on."

"It's a part of a chair that you sit on."

"Seat!"

The game ended here, because all four of us high school girls were either crying or lying gasping on the floor from laughter while the younger kids looked around confused.  I mean, what ARE the odds?

It was the most memorable game I've ever played.


Why did I feel the need to post that?  Because Kekoa is demonstrating that he understands the concept of language.  Which means, soon he'll start picking up on specific meanings.  Which means...

We have to start picking the words we're going to use for bathroom functions and anatomy.  Because as we all know, if you don't want a word shouted down the church hallway, don't teach it to your kid.