obla dee, obla da

Life goes on.

Even though I was anxious (as usual) about how OBaby would do during our Super Bowl party yesterday (which spanned one nap time and bedtime), in the end I had no reason to worry.

And many reasons to be happy.

{Copious amounts of dip}

{Marjorie’s ridiculous lemon-filled coconut cupcakes. I die. Ok, I eat 3 and then I die.}

What was truly wonderful about last night was that it began to actually sink in that hey, life can go on after having a baby. Sure, maybe we’re not hitting up that sushi place’s happy hour every Friday, but we can have 10 people over to watch a football game.

{OBaby in his Colts colors, DanO, still faithful to the ‘ol vikes.}

Bed time was a dream (snort snort) and he didn’t even wake once at all the excitement in the other room (which didn’t stop Nervous Mama from checking the video monitor every 18 seconds).

It was one of those confidence building experiences, you know? I would be lying if I said that I didn’t ask Dan 3x the week before if we could cancel the party (usually right after a battle of a bed time), but I am so glad he didn’t let me I decided not to.

{One of those quintessential he’salwaysmovingthesedays blurry pictures.}

and got a MacbookPro out of the deal

One of the more ridiculous stories I’ve ever told on my blog begins like this:

My husband can fix ANYTHING.

Remember the time that my computer up and died? Well, after buying my shiny new Macbook Pro, my old laptop went upstairs to where technology goes to die: DanO’s office. I don’t mean that he kills technology, it’s just that he never throws it away once it’s good and dead. Like a few iPod’s we’ve killed along the way. Or like the other laptop that’s sitting up there, the one I used in college that is plagued by unexpected, intermittent and CORONARY INDUCING shut-downs from over heating. That’s the laptop that screwed me over so many times by shutting down  at 2am when I was mid-research paper that it narrowly escaped being chucked across my dorm room on more than one occasion. It now sits upstairs in DanO’s office waiting patiently to be scrapped for parts to live on in various computers that are constantly being built.

Speaking of, do you know how many computers we currently have in this house? Six. Six computers, which is two for each human member of O My Family. That’s 5 more than I use. That’s one for every diaper change OBaby gets a day.

Six computers.

To be fair, a couple of them are 6+ years old and at least one of them we got for free. Another one cost us all of $10.

DanO got the itch last month to have a laptop of his very own (his primary computer is a desktop). Sure, we have 2 laptops upstairs, but one beeps at you instead of turning on and the other shuts down. Since I already kind of maybe happened to pretty much blow our quarterly discretionary funds on a rug, a new laptop was not an option. DanO poked around the insides of my old Beeping Laptop computer (one of the SIX. Did I mention WE HAVE SIX COMPUTERS?!) one night and decided that he could just buy it a new motherboard and get it up and running again.

(Although I didn’t really give chase when we were dating, and he pretty much had me at “I love kids”, I have learned  over these last 6 years that DanO’s persistent streak runs deep. It also comes with a heavy side of WillingToTryAnything.)

$80, a new motherboard ordered online, and many, MANY beeps later, Beeping Laptop was really no better off than she was in August. Except DanO was not fooled. He deduced that the new motherboard he bought was the problem, not something else in the computer. Then, an expression washes over DanO’s face that I know all too well. It means he is hatching a plan. I didn’t really follow the stream of consciousness declaration that followed about how he will resurrect this computer, but I did catch the words “convection… heat… [and] bake”.

I smile and nod.

I kept smiling and nodding, all the way to last Saturday as my husband was wearing oven mitts and pulling the Beeping Laptop’s old motherboard out of my Mother-In-Law’s convection oven.

He took the fresh-baked motherboard (?!?!?), placed it on the counter, and started using an embossing heat gun on a certain portion of it (basically a high-temp mini-hair dryer).

I do not possess adequate words to express how badly I wish I had a picture of that moment. DanO in his parents’ kitchen, beovenmitted, waving a paper-crafting tool above a green board with metal dots and lines all over it.

Then, despite my nay-saying and repeated “you’re kidding, right?”, DanO pops the Baked Motherboard into the Beeping Laptop and Lo! It came to pass that Beeping Laptop booted right up as if it hadn’t been dead for 6 months! Windows 7 start screen and everything!

In case you missed that, here is the summary: my husband can raise a non-functional, Beeping Laptop from the dead by baking it.

This is why I keep him around.

the face of Jesus

When I began student teaching  in the fall of 2007, I set out mentally for a semester filled with my own learning and formation as an educator. I was prepared to stretch myself by creating varied lesson plan formats, applying strategies to increase literacy and phonemic awareness, and accommodating all learning styles in what I envisioned to be my (perfect) classroom. It was going to be a great experience for me, and vicariously, for my students.

I put on my teachery-est outfit and shoes and arrived 15 minutes early, latte in hand, to meet with my cooperating teacher for a prep day the day before the school year would start. The plan was to prepare the classroom for the year by labeling a desk, cubby, supply drawer, and coat hook for each student.

My cooperating teacher handed me the class list. The very first name on the list was Jesus. At first, I giggled to myself. I had never met anyone named Jesus (pronounced ‘Hey-zeus’) and it certainly took me by surprise to see it on the top of my  class roster.

I wrote out a label for his desk, Jesus’ desk in my classroom.

I labeled Jesus’ cubby.

I assigned Jesus a spot on the rug for group time.

Suddenly I realized that this semester would be, by no means, about me.

I would be teaching Jesus to read. It would be my responsibility to help Jesus love to learn. When he walked into my classroom every morning, I would make Jesus feel safe, welcome, and loved.

“And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men… for you serve the Lord Christ.” -Colossians 3:23-24

An amazing change of perspective happened in my heart that morning, and it only became more profound as the first week of school went on.

It just so happened that Jesus’ family couldn’t afford most of the items on the school supply list. On the first day of school, while the rest of the students were excitedly unloading brand new crayola boxes and fresh spiral notebooks from brightly colored backpacks, Jesus sat quietly at his desk.

Jesus sat at his desk in my classroom.

That night, I scoured the aisles of Target for pocket folders, colored pencils, and size 2 gym shoes.

For Jesus.

My student teaching was not about improving my teaching ability or honing in on best practice, it was about meeting Jesus’ (and Bethany’s, and Mia’s, and Jayden’s…) needs. Sometimes, Jesus needed a hug in the morning as he came into my room. Sometimes he needed an extra push and encouragement with reading. Sometimes he, very literally, needed shoes.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’” -Matthew 25:34-36

Every student in my classroom became Christ to me, to serve for their sake, not my own. I pictured My Savior being able to say to me at the end of the term: “I couldn’t read and you taught me, I struggled with self-image and you gave me confidence, I was falling behind and you differentiated for me, I had no voice and you advocated for me.”

Now that I am not in the classroom, and I have no literal Jesus walking through my door every morning, I am working to see my son as the Jesus whom I serve. Laying on the floor all day with a pre-crawling infant, it is easy for me to see what I do as tedium.

But this is my work!

This is what I will do heartily, as unto the Lord, seeing in my son’s face the very face of Jesus.

chocolate cake in a mug (and in a flash)

So I’m sitting, watching Biggest Loser last week thinking to myself, dang, Self, I could go for some chocolate cake right now. Only, as usual, we are fresh out of chocolate cake around here, so I contemplate making a chocolate cake, in fact I’m pretty sure I have a box of cake mix… or maybe [...]

Read More »

then he played a piano duet with Sir Elton

You heard it here first:
OBaby’s first words were “Lady Gaga“. The “Lady” is really faint, but it’s in there. Check around :37 seconds.

Read More »

a lot of ‘not’s, only some ‘me’s

Ok, ok I know that last time I did a Not Me! Monday post a few weeks ago it was about the ridiculous lump of cash we forked over for a new rug (Have you rug shopped lately?! I need to start making area rugs and get in on that racket!) but this time I’m [...]

Read More »

nice to meet you

I told OBaby that our buddies over at gDiapers (you know, the ones who keep his lil’ bum so soft and happy?) linked to our page on facebook, and that made his day.
He wants you to know that he’s so happy you’re here.

And that he’s adorable.

And that he loves gDiapers.
And faux hawks.

And you.
That is all.

Read More »

gDiapers rock my world but not my wallet

“We are going to do cloth diapers.”
I cannot tell you the number of people who rolled their eyes at the glowing 30 weeks pregnant woman making such a lofty claim.
“No, but look! These aren’t your grandma (or mom’s?) cloth diapers. There are these gPants and they have little snappies where you attach a liner that [...]

Read More »