W.O.W.

Words of Wisdom
By Carolena

Every time Mommy asks you to tell someone "your news" scream out as loud as you can, "I poop on the potty now!" All of the adults will suppress giggles and commend you on your accomplishment. Mommy will probably remind you of some other boring more current "news" that she expected you to share. Hmph. Mommies. What do they know about news?

Poop on the potty. But poop in your panties as often as you feel like it. Mommy will wash them anyway, and it's good to keep her on her toes.

Sometimes, just every so often, push your younger sibling down. Wait until the prime moment when he is crawling or cruising by and then BAM! knock that guy over. Send him rolling. Do this just often enough to remind everyone of who the real boss is around here.

W.O.W.

Words of Wisdom
By Carolena

Moms prefer to start the day by jumping out of bed in a panic. It really helps to get their blood flowing. Screeching "There's a lizard on my pillow!" or climbing on top of Mommy while she's still snoozing to announce, "there's blood on my finger" are two great ways to help your mom start her day on the right foot.
*Mommy note: There was in fact an anole on her pillow. The blood turned out to be a booger. Awesome.

If you need something done by an adult order Mommy to do it. "Open this for me," "Give me that," and "Wipe my hiney" are great examples of how to speak to moms. Mommy will probably respond with some asinine comment about how she can't hear you when you speak like that. She will insist that she can only hear and respond accordingly to things asked politely. She wants you to say things like "Mommy, will you please open this for me?" I think deep down Mommy actually believes she will win out on this and that eventually she won't be bossed around by her children. Mommy thinks that someday her persistence will be rewarded with you asking politely the first time instead of demanding what is rightfully yours! Aw, isn't that cute?

Mommies like to multitask. For instance, if Mommy is nursing the baby that is a great time to bring her your shoes and socks. Even though you know how to put them on by yourself, throw a tantrum and insist that Mommy do it for you. Ugh, it's not like she's actually having to do anything while the baby is eating. When Mommy is tying your shoes and the baby is distractedly eating while watching you get dressed you'll know that's the prime moment to tell her you need help to go to the bathroom.

Clergy Spouse Confessions

Most Sundays I've got the single parent in church thing down. Aunt Panasonic babysits Carolena while I get ready to leave the house. Carolena and I go to Sunday School and Nils happily plays in the nursery. We all manage to sit mostly quiet in our second from the front pew and there is usually only limited calling out "Daddy!" And, honestly, it reaaalllly helps that I have my "church wife" in the pew next to me each week.

But in honor of yesterday...

When you see me on a Sunday morning and I'm wearing a dark shirt with a hole directly over my light colored bra, it's because I didn't notice until arriving at church.

And because some days there isn't enough coffee to get us all out of the house on time and everyone well dressed in clothes that don't have mystery holes that seem to appear right when we get there. There just isn't enough coffee in the world.

When you see me on a Sunday morning and I'm ignoring my children as they crawl all over the back of the church and the three of us take up more than one entire pew and we have toys and books and cracker crumbs everywhere, it's because we are at church all of the time. In fact this might be our third time at church in as many days. We are insanely comfortable in God's house.

And some days I am just surviving.

When my children are giggling and making happy noises (or loud grunting noises as the case may be... Nils we're looking at you buddy...) and you glance over and I seem to not even notice the ruckus my family is making, know that I do notice. I just don't care. At least they aren't fighting or crying. You might mind the noise. I know I have in the past. But in present day I'm just thankful that I'm in the pew (or wandering around somewhere near it chasing a busy crawler). I'm thankful that we're there and I have to leave it at that.

When you see me on a Sunday morning and I am holding a 30lb baby on one hip, have a huge bag overflowing with toys on the other arm, and a three year old clinging to my leg (or running full speed ahead for the donuts), don't wonder why I look frazzled and tired. Please don't ask me a question about what time something starts or what the youth group might be doing at their next meeting. I don't know the answer. I never do.

When you see me on a Sunday morning and I seem distracted or tired or frazzled... it's because I am.

But we're there.

There was a time when I sat in the pews and enjoyed the quiet before the service. There was a time when I knelt during the confession, stood during the creed, and faced the gospel procession. I'd like to say there was a time when I arrived at church in a shirt without a hole but that's pushing it a bit too far, don't you think? It's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Now my worship looks different. It takes the form of holding children and rocking babies. I worship standing more often than not because kneeling with a 10 month old is not feasible. I sing about half of each song but the half that I get to sing is sung loudly and joyfully... and my little grunting Nils sings along. The other half is spent wrangling cats my children and praying that none of us have to use the bathroom. The three of us in one stall is more than I can handle some days. I stand for the Eucharistic Prayer. The choices offered in the BCP are to kneel in penitence or stand in the joy of the Resurrection. At this point in my life, I choose joy. So I stand.

I realize that my kids and I are incredibly distracting in church. But, I'm doing the best I can. My worship is that we are there. Nils might not have shoes that fit, Carolena may have crazily ripped out her hairbraid in the middle of the service, and my shirt might have an unsightly hole... but we're there. My worship these days is about presence. When I say to Carolena, "It's Sunday. What do we do on Sundays?" and her resounding happy answer is to cheer, "church!" I know that our sometimes chaotic loud disruptive worship is in fact holy.

Mmmmmm Donuts...

Here's a little song that I wrote. 

You can sing it note for note. 

Donut worry. 

Be happy.

You are Loved, You are Loved, You are Loved They All Say

Tonight Carolena, Nils, and I were hanging out in Carolena's room when she suddenly tossed a book my direction. "Read this to us" she demanded.

And that is how I found myself choking back sobs reading "Wherever You Are: My Love Will Find You" as my two children peacefully played ignorant to my tears.

As Nils chewed on the puzzle pieces that Carolena will undoubtedly soon discover and cry over and Carolena emptied a doll crib and tried to get in it, I read...

"I wanted you more than you'll ever know so I sent love to follow you wherever you go..."

And I thought of Nils, 10 months old, straining to see past me so that he could watch Carolena ride by on the carousel.

And I thought of Carolena, big enough to be on the carousel.

And for these things I give thanks. I give thanks always.

And then I thought of the love my parents have for me. And I give thanks. Always.

I wanted you more than you ever will know
so I sent love to follow wherever you go.
It’s high as you wish it. It’s quick as an elf.
You’ll never outgrow it…it stretches itself!

So climb any mountain… climb up to the sky!
My love will find you. My love can fly!

Make a big splash! Go out on a limb!
My love will find you. My love can swim!

It never gets lost, never fades, never ends…

if you’re working…or playing… or sitting with friends.

You can dance ’til you’re dizzy… paint ’til you’re blue…

There’s no place, not one, that my love can’t find you.

And if someday you’re lonely, or someday you’re sad,
or you strike out at baseball, or think you’ve been bad…

just lift up your face, feel the wind in your hair.
That’s me, my sweet baby, my love is right there.

In the green of the grass…in the smell of the sea…
in the clouds floating by…at the top of a tree…
in the sound crickets make at the end of the day…

“You are loved. You are loved. You are loved,” they all say.

My love is so high, and so wide and so deep, 

it’s always right there, even when you’re asleep.

So hold your head high and don’t be afraid
to march to the front of your own parade.

If you’re still my small babe or you’re all the way grown,
my promise to you is you’re never alone.

You are my angel, my darling, my star…

and my love will find you, wherever you are.

You are loved.

~ Nancy Tillman

Breakfast of Champions

At the end of the Q&A with astronaut Col. Chris Hadfield last night, a woman in the front asked him, "What, if anything, is left on your bucket list?" And Chris' response was phenomenal. I wish I'd recorded it, but lacking that ability, here is my best paraphrasing of what he said:

"I don't believe in bucket lists. I mean, the mere idea of a bucket list seems like a millstone dragging around someone's neck. Who wants to walk around with a mainly empty bucket all of the time? It would be like going trick or treating and having a bucket with like three pieces of candy in it the whole time. Depressing.

I choose to live my life in such a way that I celebrate all of the victories. I got out of bed this morning and thought to myself, "Hey, good job! You got out of bed today! I win!" I looked out the window and the sun was shining and it wasn't snowing. Another win. I sat down to my favorite breakfast of Cheerios and skim milk (henceforth to be known in the Duncan household as "The Chris Hadfield Special"). By the time it was 9 am I felt like I had already had a great day. I'd already won.

I don't want to be the person who lives each day going, "Aw man, I'm awful, I haven't even climbed Everest yet." I'm going to take every victory no matter how small and consider each one a "win." Who wants to base their success on whether or not they've been to Machu Picchu yet? 

So, to answer your question, sure, there are more things I want to do. Long-term goals. But I don't base my happiness or self worth on whether or not I accomplish them."

Starstruck

Last night I had the opportunity to go to a book signing of Col. Chris Hadfield (former commander of the International Space Station, hit youtube sensation, all around loveable Astronaut).

Guys, it. was. awesome.

He was signing copies of his new book, "You Are Here." It's a compilation of photographs of Earth that he took during his five months on ISS. He and his wife are giving all of the proceeds to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinsons research. Yeah, he's pretty cool.

After he spoke for a bit about life on ISS he opened up the floor for questions and all two hundred (from my quick count) people's hands shot up. And he called on me! Moi!

I asked him to speak about what it was like to return to Earth after so long in space. He began by saying, "Think about your body. You heart is pumping blood five and a half feet... no... wait... five feet seven inches all of the time." HA! How awesome is that?! He said that the return to Earth was really physically demanding and that the first month was like the combination of a long serious illness and a horrible car accident and that he was nauseous all of the time. It was fascinating.

But the best answer came in response to the last question. A person in the front row asked what there is that could possibly be left on Chris Hadfield's bucket list... and his answer was phenomenal. It was a summary of how I try to live my life and was so great it deserves it's own blogpost.

To be continued...