a little introspection

I am earning my money this week. I've been training my replacement; a very cheerful, optimistic woman who comes early and stays late. She makes lists of questions for me. (Turns out I know more than I thought.) My clients will be in good - non-burnt-out - hands. After her interview, my boss told me about how hopeful and happy this woman is, I simply said, "Give her time." My boss didn't think that was too funny. But it was.

I sometimes wonder what this job has done to me. Watching people go through a social service system is taxing. Interacting with underpaid, underqualified staff (from other agencies, of course) is frustrating. It is impossible to maintain a "reach for the stars" mentality when your job is to determine a person's vocational potential. I know I was not this practical four years ago when I stumbled off my college campus into this job. I thought the world of the world. I was confident I could improve society.

I still love my internship and I think marriage and family counseling is more my forte than is rehabilitation counseling. I would love to work in a Christian counseling center and eventually open my own practice.

I guess career is on my mind. As I cut down my hours at work, and eventually eliminate them, I am reminded of things I do like about human services. The key is to do what you can. No, it's to do what you are supposed to do. What you are meant to do. What has God has called you to do with your days? I've come to the conclusion that every profession is a helping profession. Every piece of our lives is a outlet to show love, forgiveness, peace. I want to remember that throughout my career as a counselor, as a mother, as a person.

Super

Haven turned red and was immediately covered in sweat when I put him in his crib. He screamed, kicked off the blanket and abandoned Dangles. Unsure if he was tired enough for a nap yet, I decided I would get him in ten minutes if he was still enraged. Several minutes later the crying ceased and he is sprawled out in his crib, reveling in dreams. The angrier he is when I put him in bed, the faster he falls asleep.

This will be my last four-day work week. My last day was scheduled to be Friday, but my boss asked if I would continue working 2 days a week while a coworker is on maternity leave. I asked for a small raise and agreed to stay. As of next week, I will work only Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have all sorts of illusions that my apartment will always be spotless, dinner will be fresh and healthy every night. I will research the latest treatments for my clients and implement them seamlessly. Haven and I will spend our days taking in the sunshine and attending play groups. Next week, I become Super Woman. Stay tuned.

I love Valerie's idea of planning the menu for the week on Monday. I think I might do a theme ("Like a cafeteria?" Dave asked) menu. This will help me wade through my cookbooks. For example, Fish Monday, Crock Pot Tuesday, Around the World Wednesday, Leftover Thursday. I can't decide about Friday. I'm just excited about next week, when I will be able to solve this one easily. When I become Super Woman.

I think Haven is awake. He takes micro naps in the morning. About twenty minutes. I leave you with this picture of Haven in a super cute shirt Marcia sent from Holland (thanks Marsh!).

Keen's

For the past four or five years we have called together our friends and planted ourselves at Outback Steakhouse for a few hours to celebrate Dave's birthday. It has always been fun. It has always satisfied Dave's appetite for steak on his birthday.

During the course of this year, however, Dave brought his steak passion to a new level. He went to New York's Keen's Steakhouse during a business meeting a few months ago. He will still eat at Outback (don't do me any favors), but after eating at Keen's, he is spoiled for what we have considered good steak. Keen's is a very old, very fancypants steakhouse in the city. He returned a couple of times with his boss and coworkers after they did some business in town.

I'm lucky if my boss brings mini muffins to work. But that's a different story.

Keen's makes aged steak. Apparently aging steak is a process that enhances the flavor. Our friends were ecstatic. My friend Danna starved herself all day so that she could pack in as much long-gone cow as possible. I don't like steak and used to be a vegetarian, but even I thought the flavor was remarkable. Since I don't enjoy the texture of steak, I had lobster instead, which was divine. I've only had lobster two other times and it was as delicious as the time I had it at a clam bake on Long Island.

The table was full of steak lovers and the table was full of steak. So many dead cows. Maybe that's why I don't like steak - it's so obvious that it is a slab of flesh. I had to have the lobster's head taken from my plate in order to indulge. I'd rather avoid what's really going on when I eat meat.

The meal was truly decadent. Everything was delicious from the wine, to the hollindaise sauce for the asparagus to the potatoes to the service. Remarkable.

Danna and I attacked a dark chocolate mousse. We opted to share one since were so full, but we scarfed that sucker down so fast the waiter laughed. I dared her ask the waiter to give her a doggie bag for the bone from her steak so she could make soup, but instead we just laughed until we cried.

We had dropped Haven at Jes's before dinner. He had a great time getting strolled around the city and chilling out in a tea shop. (Jes has started her own blog and it is hysterical in comedic proportions, by the way.)

I remembered why we love living around here. It is great to be so close to New York. It is great to be so close to Jes. It is great to have friends to celebrate with us. It is great to experience distinctly new things.

Happy Birthday, Dave!

Dave is 29 years old, as of Wednesday. He was about 19 when we met for the very first time.

My sister, Jessica, had moved to northern Jersey to attend a school similar to YWAM's Discipleship Training School, hosted by a church in the area. For her birthday, Lindsay and I drove the three hours to surprise her. We borrowed Merry's - Lindsay's sister - car, the little Festiva. She made us clean it in order to borrow it, as any smart older sister would. (Actually, at the last minute, Lindsay's mom let us borrow her car, so Merry got a clean car for nothing. Lucky.) So, Linds and I hit the highway. Jes was so excited to see us she started writhing on the floor. But, more about that another time. This story is about Dave for Dave's birthday.

I remember the first time I saw him. I watched him. I thought he was cute. Intriguing. Friendly. He was in school with Jes. He video taped Jes, Linds and I in a birthday cake eating contest and you can hear him laughing behind the camera. Yes, his first impression of me was based on my on how fast I could shove cake into my mouth. This boded well for our future.

Ten years have passed since then. It was another three years before it hit us that we were perfect for each other and four more before Dave asked me to marry him and two more before we brought a mini-us into the world. It has certainly been a full ten years. For a list of things I love, love love about my husband click here http://iwillwalkwithyou.blogspot.com/2007/06/how-do-i-love.html.

Happy Birthday, Love!
May this last year in your twenties (!) be full of joy.

Pediatrician. Speed Dial 1.

Haven is sick.

Again? You say.

No. Still.

We should get some kind of frequent visitor card at the doctor's office. Maybe we could get a free copay. Or an invite to Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm not a panicky Mom. I don't run to the doctor's office with every sneeze. In the past month, though, we've been there for a rash, pink eye and now ... a bad cough. Last week's pink eye has progressed into two infected ears and "viral" pnemonia. You have got to be kidding me.

He's napping now (fell asleep by himself! I can hardly believe this whole thing is working!!). When he wakes up we'll walk down to the pharmacy and get his medicine.

On a happier note, I thought this video was too great not to share. It comes via my friend Janet.

pictures.

Little house in the Big Woods.

A view of the living room from the stairs.

The stairs to the loft bedroom.

Counter space!!!!

Dave in the dining room ... trying to remember if any of our friends are taller than he is.

There are lots more pictures ... but it took me ages to poorly format these. So. In the interest of time ... that's all for now.

househunt update.

We are in the throws of buying our first home. Last night was the inspection, which I was dreading with bated breath. I took about a thousand pictures of every nook of the house. When it was over, I thought it went well. Dave informed me it did not. I obviously was giving more thought to complimentary paint and carpet choices for Haven's room than to the weak well pump and flu-less chimney. Good thing Dave was there.

The next few days will be full of research and negotiating. I look forward to it ending. I just want to know. I just want to start packing boxing and picking paint colors. And installing a dishwasher. Or, please no, start looking again.

I like this house a lot. It is an old log cabin. It has so much character. It has a large deck. It has a stone fireplace. It has a loft bedroom with a walk-in closet for Dave and me. It is so homey. I hope we get it. I'm way past not getting excited.

(Photos to come.)

Thanks for the input!

Last week I asked what other parents did to help their children fall asleep independently. It was supremely helpful mostly because it was great to know that we are not the only parents who are struggling.

Despite my curiosity as to what other parents found to work, I wasn't ready to do much. Mostly because I decided my only recourse was letting Haven cry it out. At Christin's suggestion, I did start to bring a stuffed monkey to hang out with us while I nursed Haven to sleep. I sort of forced the thing on him and he was not too interested.

However, after several hour-plus go-to-bed sessions I decided I was ready for some alone time with Dave and a semblance of a nigh time routine for Haven. I decided I was ready. To let Haven cry.

We have let him cry before. Once for an entire hour. After that, I thought that crying led to sleep as a rainbow leads to a pot of gold. We started Saturday's cry session with a let's-see-what-happens mentality. Davene, your quote of the verse that says, "No discipline is pleasant in the moment..." played over and over in my mind.

Dave and I were cleaning out the attic. Don't worry. We didn't miss out on any of the heart-wrenching sobs permeating our apartment. We just got to do two fun things at once: sort through our junk and listen to our little guy scream.

It took us about an hour to get through half of the attic (in our defense, it's a huge walk-up attic). Dave left to take a carload of crap to the Salvation Army and I planned to go rescue Haven from his misery. Just as I approached his door the sobbing started to dwindle. A few silent seconds passed, then more crying erupted. I thought maybe, just maybe, this child is getting tired. He cried intermittently for another half hour while I sat stiff as a board listening from the living room. By the time Dave got home, Haven was just about asleep.

Once sweet silence entered the apartment, I crept into Haven's room. He was pushed all the way to the corner of the crib, his head nestled there. His blanket was balled up in anger. The "comfort" monkey was upside down in mockery. But sleep. There was independent sleep.

Sunday night I started a little ritual. A few books. Nursing. Diaper change. Pajamas. Pray. Here's the monkey, oh, you don't care, here he is anyway. Good night. He only cried for twenty minutes and then I found him asleep, with the monkey, whom we call Dangles by the way, peacefully next to him.

Here's hoping this is the beginning of a smooth transition to a big boy bedtime routine.