The ABC Song

I was really really hoping that Jackson would be musical. And happily, he's showing evidence that he might not have inherited his PapaJohn's...uh...lack of pitch sensitivity. To PapaJohn's credit, there's a wonderful resonance to his voice. But my compliments will have to stop with his speaking abilities.

The first evidence of Jackson's musical sensibilities came as a surprise a few months ago. He was in the charge of his Auntie M while Ian and I had dinner out. When we came back, M said that he had hummed the tune to "Skip to my Lou" along with her. I hadn't heard him do that yet. Hence, the surprise. Sure enough, the next morning when I sang it to him to test him out, he echoed the notes of the chorus right back to me.

Then a few weeks later, I put him down to nap. Sometimes, we put a book in his crib so he can entertain himself before falling asleep. This time I put a little songbook with a micro-keyboard in with him. I heard him tapping on some keys. Then I heard a single note followed by an off key "aaa". Another note followed by a slightly flat "aaa". Then a third time with the same key on the piano. And darned if he didn't hit that note pitch perfect..."AAA"! The kiddo was learning to sing on key!!

Then last month we were in Atlanta for the Independence Day holiday. We noticed that Jackson had this little phrase he kept repeating. A O A O A O A. We weren't sure what he was singing until we realized that the notes of his A O A O A O A perfectly matched those when we sing A B C D E F G. Of course that entertained us for a while (especially cousin Aidan, who really knows his ABCs).

Now the ABC song is heard daily in the Eyre household. And Jackson's shown significant improvement. Now he's up to A B E B E B E, Etch Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh X. Then he quits. He's getting better every day. And he loves to perform. In fact, next time you see him, ask him to sing the ABC song. He will gladly oblige. He might not have all the lyrics down yet, but as his mama, I am proud to announce that he's hitting all the right notes pretty close to proper pitch.

Clarice

Pat Pat Pat

What is it about us as adults that when we pick up babies we like to pat them on their backs? Both Ian and I have been doing that since Jackson was a newborn. He's even learned from my mother that the comforting rhythmic pressure of an adult hand on his back is called "pat pat pat." We used to pat him to burp him or to soothe him when he was distressed. Now it's usually after he's fallen or unhappy.

A few months ago, Jackson started patting us. It's cute as all get out. He'd be crying about something (usually being denied the pleasure of throwing his milk cup across the room or losing sight of us as we passed into the bathroom). We'd pick him up in his distressed state and he would calm down as he patted either of us on the back.

So yesterday as I dropped him off at daycare, I disappeared for a nanosecond into the kitchen and he became upset. I came out and picked him up, holding him close for a hug. He calmed and started patting me on the back (because I was distressed? I don't know). Then he stopped and looked at me and reached around to pat his own back. I was trying to figure out what he was doing when he patted me again, then looked at me and patted his own back. Then I got it. He wanted me to pat his back. So I did...and he relaxed with the pleasure of it. Funny how far a little pat pat pat can go.

Clarice

Single Mom

Ian left today. He's scheduled to be gone for one month working on a movie officially called Untitled Genre Project. Poor sod is stuck in Hawaii while I get to luxuriate in the summer heat of Los Angeles in our ramshackle, non-air-conditioned duplex with a toddler in the throes of early onset terrible twos.

It's actually Ian's second out-of-town assignment for this same project. Last time was 11 days in New Mexico. And Jackson and I survived (with a little help from my mom). Ian asked me how I felt about his absence this time around. I told him that the net effect was zero. I'm more anxious about the longer period of time (and sad about not seeing my sweetie for a whole month), but feel more confident that I can do it, having done it for 11 days already.

But it helps to know that in a month, he'll be back again. I just don't know how single moms do it for years on end. I just can't imagine not being able to share the load AND the joys of parenthood with another. One of the other moms at Jackson's daycare once joked that whenever her husband was out of town, leaving her alone with the kids, she always greeted him on his return with the declaration that her resolve never to divorce him strengthened with each experience with single parenthood. I definitely prefer parenting with a partner.

So hurry home, my dear. There's so much to share. It's only been one day so far (out of the thirty-something to come), but you've already missed out on Jackson releasing a squirt of diarrhea on his bedroom floor AND the cute anecdote about how he greeted his little friends Chris and Anusha today.

Clarice

Family Time

Ian and I made a commitment to make sure that Jackson had an opportunity to see his paternal grandparents at least twice a year. This has turned into an annual Eyre clan gathering over the 4th of July holiday (if you do it twice, is it officially an annual event?). So last week, the clan gathered together for some family time. Here we are at the foot of Stone Mountain in Georgia.

It has been wonderful to spend time with these folks. I'm really blessed with my new extended family. PapaJohn is a jolly bloke, with an infectious laugh and an incredible knowledge of Scripture and church history. MumIvy is a tenderheart who loves to serve her family in any way she can (and particularly through baked goods). My brother-in-law Roy and his wife Becky are an inspiration in the way they have chosen to be involved in the advancement of the kingdom of God through their work with Wycliffe Bible Translators. And I love the way they have chosen to raise their three kids, who are wonderful cousins to Jackson. And Elisabeth is my kindred spirit sister, who likes to read the same kind of things I like to read and think about the things that I like to think about. So blessed.

Sad to be gone from the madness of the Eyre family gathering. Looking forward to the next.

Clarice

Does he know?

Since Jackson was about 3 months old, we've had a nightly routine with him. First he gets a bath and gets dressed in his pajamas (kids pajamas are so darn cute!!). Then we read him a story. And after his story, we pray with him on his behalf. We just wanted to get him in the habit of thanking God for the blessings of the day. At first, he didn't like it much. We would try to fold his hands together, which he resisted as an infant. However, at about 9 months of age, he started getting used to the idea. He would independently fold his hands together, sometimes bow his head, and stay silent until we finished praying with him. Then maybe two months ago, he started saying "Amen" after hearing us say "In Jesus' name." I think he is accustomed to the idea of praying together with us.

Ian and I have our own morning routine, which we've had since a few weeks into marriage. When the first of us to leave prepares to depart, we have a short time of prayer just to get our minds and hearts in the right place for the day. It's been our time, but since Jackson started daycare at 5 months, we've been including him in our time by just holding him with us as we pray. We never really explained to him what was happening. It was just part of our routine. Well last month, a few words into our prayer time, we heard the "pat" sound of little hands clasping together and a little voice saying "Amen" over and over again. Somehow he knew that what was happening in the morning was the same thing that we did with him at night. I thought it was really quite amazing that he made the connection. Maybe it was the "In Jesus' name..." that tipped him off. At any rate, he has now become an active participant in our morning prayer time.

Last week, something else amazing happened. On our commute home, I decided to abstain from my usual auditory diet of talk radio or children's music and instead tuned in to a Christian music radio station. They were playing a worship song that I wasn't familiar with. All of a sudden I heard the little voice in the carseat behind me pipe up with his chorus of "Amens." I pondered it in my heart for a week until it happened again yesterday. How is it that he knows that worship music and prayer time have something in common? I've often heard it said that children are more spiritually attuned than adults are. I'm starting to think so. Otherwise, what else could explain how he seems to recognize activity intended to usher in the presence of God. Can't wait to see how he grows in his spiritual awareness.

Clarice

Flashback

Our back lawn is dying. It's brown and yellow and the dirt below is rock hard. In the winter, it's a luscious green, but in the summer it requires significant watering to stay alive. Ian and I made an executive decision a few weeks ago to just leave it alone. I had been reading that this year may be a record-breaker in terms of lack of rain. I had been hearing that we are possibly in for a drought year rivaling the drought conditions of the 70's. I was explaining that to my mom the other day when she saw the desert behind our home. And something she said took me back to my childhood.

I remembered the drought conditions we had in the late 70's. Everyone was urged to conserve water. We had a swimming pool that we didn't maintain, leaving it half-filled to avoid wasting water. We took brief showers, turning off the water to shampoo and lather up, turning the water back on only to rinse. The gross conservationist strategy was that we only flushed the toilet if we did #2. Otherwise, we let volumes of #1 collect until the deposit of a #2 justified the 2-3 gallons of water used per flush. I hope it doesn't get like that again.

I also remembered the gas crisis in the 70's. I remember waiting in lines for hours to get gas. I think Carter had decided to impose some restrictions on fuel, resulting in a severe shortage. But that was back when gas cost 10% of what it now costs. I definitely hope we don't revisit the long waits in addition to the increased cost.

And I remembered hearing in school that scientists had been studying the weather patterns and were warning that we should prepare for an ice age. I remember hearing my teacher talk about the possibility that we, like the dinosaurs, might end up going extinct. I wonder what happened to that data when they started postulating the possibility that we're now supposed to be entering a global warming disaster. I really hope we don't revisit the ice age idea. I much prefer warm weather to cold.

Clarice

Jackson Kisses

Jackson recently learned how to give kisses. At first it was blowing a kiss. Well, he'd put his hand to his mouth, say "mmmm", then throw his hand out somewhere. Then about a month ago, he learned how to kiss us on the faces. We always had to demonstrate first by kissing each other. Then he would offer each of us a slobbery kiss on the cheeks (after attempting to kiss on the mouth first).

Jackson has LOTS of stuffed animals. Plushes of all types - lions, caterpillars, monkeys, Bruin bears. None of them have been purchased by us. Half have been gifts from generous friends. The other half appear in our home on an occasional basis, usually after my mom has been over for a visit. She knows he has a ton of stuffed animals, but she said she wanted to make sure he had lots of animals to love.

So lately, Jackson has been expressing his love to his stuffed animals. He'll spend the entire evening with his little blue lamb in hand, occasionally kissing it on the mouth and babbling to it. We'll find him in his crib in the morning looking his "Swamp Cat" happily in the eyes and kissing her/him on the nose. And his naptime doggy lovey gets an affectionate bite on the nose before being smothered by a slobbery kiss. It's darn cute.

Part of me marvels that he can be so affectionate with objects that can't return his affections. To me, it means that he feels enough love to share without expectation of return. At least, that's what I assume. At any rate, it's very heartwarming. Now to get him to kiss his grandparents on command....

Clarice

I'm Okay

Jackson was sick last month. Well, he's been sick quite a few times since entering into the daycare viral cesspool, but it was a tough one last month. He was a little wheezy, which worried me a bit, since one of his previous colds resulted in coughing and wheezing that was serious enough for him to be put on the nebulizer. Ian has mild asthma, and I also had a mild form of asthma as a child that I eventually grew out of. So I was worried that Jackson might show more signs of asthma during last month's illness. Every night I would listen to him after he fell asleep to make sure that his breathing wasn't labored. And he was usually fine. However, one night he had a particularly difficult time falling asleep. Then around 4 AM I heard him coughing and crying a bit. So I got up to make sure he was breathing okay. I sat on the floor next to his crib for a few minutes just listening to the rattle and buzz of his little airway. I could tell he was having a hard time. He was on his stomach and kept rubbing his face against the sheet, coughing, and crying out in little mewling protests of discomfort. All of a sudden, he pushed himself up and turned his face in my direction. He was alert and still, peering at me in the dark. Then he took his little hand and reached out to touch my face. He smiled, figuring out that the form next to his bed was real and not just a dream. Then he put his head down on the bed, maintained eye contact with me for a few seconds, then drifted into a more peaceful sleep. It was almost as if he knew that I was there and decided "mom's here so I'm okay." I had to sit there for a few more minutes in the darkness just processing the fact that my presence set him at ease.

A few nights later we were at our small group. Jackson was playing with a little three and a half year old girl (I'll call her "A") whose parents also come to our group. He was still getting the hang of walking at the time and took a little tumble under her watch. I looked over to see her helping him on his feet again and asking "Are you okay?" I thought it was cute that she was checking on him (especially since we're not sure how much he understands). Then about a half hour later, she took a tumble of her own off the sofa. I heard the unmistakable sound of little hands and feet hitting hardwood, an exclamation of "ow!", then the announcement to the adults of "I'm okay!" I found it to be rather endearing that she would immediately think that the adults would need to be assured of her status. Then I remembered that I'd heard that before while at the home of other friends. The child left alone to play in her room...crashing sounds...and the shout of "I'm okay." And I realized that these children knew they were loved. They knew that their parents would be concerned about how they felt after their little bumps and bruises. And our three and a half year old little friend, A, had learned to transfer that concern to another.

All of this made me think of that passage in Mark, where Jesus was talking about how we should "receive the kingdom of God like a little child". I was never sure what that meant. But I think I'm getting a better idea. I am so unlike a little child in my faith at times. I'm not like Jackson, where I am comforted by the knowledge that my parent is near. Even when I see evidence of my Heavenly Father's presence and His concern for me, my heart often remains troubled because I don't trust His presence and concern. I think I need to learn that from Jackson - to rest well knowing that my Father is watching me. And I'm not like Jackson's little friend, A, where I am so confident of my parents' concern. I am not so convinced that my Heavenly Father cares and I don't offer Him regular thanks nor even requests for things I need. I know it intellectually, but I think I need to learn from "A" the confidence that He really wants me to let Him know how I am. I need to learn from these little ones that I'm okay and to announce it regularly.

Clarice

Photo Shoot

Our friends Joe and Jenny came over a few weeks ago to take pictures of Jackson. They have a side business doing video and stills of weddings (and babies). Just go to www.pictage.com and search for Jackson Eyre. He was a little serious that day, it being his first photo shoot and all. But Jenny was able to capture some of his livelier moments. Enjoy!!

Clarice

Anecdotal Notes

One of the hard things about working parenthood is that we miss so many precious moments. Fortunately, the child care center includes notes when the kids do special things. It's not the same as being there, but at least we know. Here are some of our favorite notes:

"During a diaper change, a caregiver was sending kisses J's way. J started to make kissing sounds back."

"Jackson was really interacting with Rowan today. He would make eye contact, and when R would laugh, he would laugh too. Later, R would throw a ball and look at J. J would look at R, then go after the ball. He would let R have it & R would toss it again & repeat. J did this 4 times. J also would make eye contact with Lena and laugh, making L laugh. Then he would shake his body (wiggle), causing more laughs."

"While holding a lid to a container, Jackson walked all the way across the room to Anusha. He gave her the lid, then came down on his knees, hugged her, and crawled away."

"Ate a very hearty lunch!!! 2 huge BMs" - one written HUGE!!, the other written HUGE :)

That's our boy!

Clarice

Broken

Somebody gave me a pair of sand dollars many years ago. I don't remember who...maybe Callista or Christina, from journeys overseas. I've saved them all these years, keeping them safe and protected. But then last week when I was cleaning our office, I saw them on the floor, broken. They weren't shattered or anything. Just chipped around the edges. Nonetheless, I promptly went to the kitchen, retrieved our dustpan and swept them right up. Once I got them into the dustpan, I stopped for a moment. I usually don't discard sentimental items so quickly - especially items I've kept so long. But who needs imperfect sand dollars, right? Something was niggling at the back of my mind so I paused another moment to consider what was holding me when it came to me.

Earlier that day we took a trip to the zoo (where Jackson and Harper had their first date). We had been waiting at the entrance for Harper to arrive, when we saw a large group also waiting to go in. They were remarkable for three reasons. First, they were all wearing the same bright turquoise t-shirts. 1980's turquoise. Second, they were all adults. Since when do you gather a group of adults for a field trip to the zoo? Third, they weren't just any group of adults. On closer inspection, I saw that they were adults with special needs. Many of them looked quite unaffected, but then one would flap his arms in the air and snort, another would hit his head with his fist, another would begin slowly rolling up the end of her turquoise t-shirt to reveal bare midriff, until stopped by an adult without a turquoise t-shirt. Other adults were clearly affected with Down syndrome or physical deformities. Oh, but you should have seen the pack of them when they saw Jackson and Harper. There was a group of 6-8 who kept waving to the babies and saying "Hi, baby!" They wanted to know how old the babies were and if they were going to the zoo and if they could say hi back. They made Jackson and Harper smile...and warmed my heart.

I thought of them as I stared at my broken sand dollars. I thought of how I hold on to things as long as they serve whatever function I have designated for them. But when that purpose is fulfilled, I consider discarding...unless I think I might need it at some point. I only like to keep things I think are useful. And I thought of how we as Americans think. We are becoming a society that has no value for things or people that are "broken." So often, the imperfect are discarded because they cannot fulfill an expected purpose. Then I decided that I should blog about my thoughts....and didn't.

But today I started reflecting again about the value of a human life when I was telling Ian about the most significant part of my day. I saw a child in my dental practice who got me thinking. He was almost 13 years old and had a diagnosis of autism. He could understand instructions somewhat, but didn't talk much. He required constant supervision and was in special education. But most significantly, he was the recipient of a heart transplant. I was a bit surprised by that. I think heart donations are hard to come by. I was surprised that someone who may not become a "productive" member of society was given a healthy heart to replace his defective one. Somebody thought his life was worth saving.

So today I thought of my acquaintances at the zoo again. I thought about how delightful many of them were. And I thought of my sand dollars. I didn't want them any more because I considered them to be broken. But I've heard that if a sand dollar breaks, seven doves will be revealed. So perhaps things that are broken shouldn't be considered useless. Perhaps they are meant to be broken to serve another purpose than what we assume is intended.

Clarice

First Date

Jackson and Harper had their first date on Saturday. I mean...they've hung out in a group before, but this was the first time it was just the two of them (and their parents). We all went to the Los Angeles Zoo. It was the first time we'd been there on a Saturday. Let me tell you...it was a zoo in there. I guess that's what happens when there's a special holiday (can we say Easter?)...involving bunnies...which are animals....which belong in the zoo....which has special animal-related programs for kids on special holidays like Easter. Anyway, they seemed to have a good time. I don't know if Harper's going to consider it a real date though. After all, Jackson didn't offer to pay for her.

Clarice

Madness

In the past 3 weeks I've traveled 6000 miles and witnessed a miracle.

I went to New Orleans for a meeting and left my boys home alone for 4 days. They were unscathed when I returned. 3800 miles.

Came home. Unpacked. Rested a day or two. Repacked.

Then the whole Ian Eyre family went up to Seattle together. Four days on the train, three days on the ground. We were all unscathed when we returned. 2200 miles.

But the event that started off the the crazy 3 week period was the miracle. Christina got married. I don't mean that it's a miracle that Christina finally found someone to marry her. Or that it's a miracle that Christina found a man worthy of the amazing woman she is. I don't mean either of the two extremes people think of when you say that it's a miracle that an individual got married. The whole institution of marriage is somewhat of a miracle. In this day and age, what is it that compels us to think we can stand before family, friends, and God and pledge lifelong commitment? That promise is a miracle.

Now I just wish I could stop for a moment and enjoy the richness of the mad life I've lived these past three weeks.

Clarice

The Baby in the Mirror

Jackson loves the baby in the mirror. When he was just a few months old, he would stare at the baby in the mirror. When he learned how to smile, he would smile when we held him up the mirror. And then he learned to pat, and then to shout out to the baby in the mirror.

It’s been fascinating watching him learn about the mirror. The first time he seemed to demonstrate an understanding of what the mirror did was at Christmas, when he was 10 months old. We were in Atlanta visiting my in-laws. I was holding Jackson up to the mirror and his Grandmum was looking on. He saw her image in the mirror waving to him, then he turned around to look at her. I wondered then if he knew that was her reflection or if he thought there were two of her.

Jackson’s been growing more verbal lately. His vocabulary is mainly one-syllable words that get repeated. He knows I’m “mama” and Ian is “dada” and he knows if he wants milk he shouts out “nai nai” (the Cantonese version of milk, which is so much easier for an infant to say than "milk"). But two weeks ago, we heard him practicing some two-syllable words. He would crawl around the house saying something that sounded like "Dak-hhhhhn." The "hhhhhn" part was rather entertaining because it was basically blown through his nose. Then a few days later, it morphed into "Dak-tah." We weren't sure what he was trying to say, but we knew it was significant because it was his only two-syllable word and he kept repeating it. Then one night when I held him up to look at the baby in the mirror, he laughed and declared, "Dak-snnnnn" and I realized that he was saying the two-syllable word he hears the most often - "Jackson."

It amazes me that he can recognize that the baby that he sees in the mirror is him. And it amazes me that he knows his name. And even more that he is so motivated to say his name. We humans are truly fascinating creatures.

Clarice

Not a morning person

Like his mom and dad, Jackson sometimes isn't the happiest camper when he wakes up in the morning.

Happy Birthday, Baby!!

Last Saturday was Jackson's first birthday. He had his first taste of cake.

It's hard to believe it's been one year already. And it's been such an adventure. Quite early on, we regularly prayed that Jackson's life would eventually be used to draw people to God. He's such a happy baby, we're thinking that God may be on His way to answering that prayer. Now we have to continue to pray that he would grow to follow Jesus.

So much to express about this first year, but it's late, so I'll just leave you with these fun pictures.



Yeah, good times.

Clarice

Performing on American Idol

No, not me. But somebody I've performed with...Sabrina Sloan!

We performed together at Mosaic in the worship band last year (when I was pregnant). And we were in the same small group together for a while (we left because of Jackson and she left to go on the road with the "Hairspray" touring group). She's a great gal and sings beautifully. So if you're an American Idol fan, tune in and vote often.

Clarice

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy belated Valentine's Day all!

We spent this Valentine's Day at home with Jackson. Ian sent me off to work in the morning with the announcement that he got me a card. I was so moved by the sweet sentiment of his card. Then I took a closer look at the front.
Yeah, that's my Valentine card. Fortunately, I love my Valentine!

Clarice

Morning Rituals

Every morning when I drop Jackson off at day care I follow a little ritual. When I first pull up in the parking lot, I look back at him and announce, "We're at school." Then I ask him, "Are you ready?" He never answers me in words, but quite often smiles. Then I walk myself around to his side of the the car to get him out. But before I open the door, I always tap on his window to catch his attention and wave. It's been one of my favorite moments of each morning to watch him turn his head to see me and smile his happy Jackson smile. I think my ritual has caught on with him now. Yesterday morning before I got to the point where I tap on the window to catch his attention, he was already looking my way with his silly crunched-nose grin. Now it's our ritual.

Clarice

Day Care Anecdotal Notes

On Wednesday, Ian found this picture attached to Jackson's daily care clipboard along with the following anecdotal note:

Today Jackson went on a wagon ride to see the Bruin Bear. J and his two friends had a great time. He was crawling all over the place and pulling up. Although he did refuse to crawl on the grass area, J had big smiles for all the students walking by.

I remember walking around Ackerman Union as a student and seeing little ones in their wagons or the buggy. Boy, I sure wish I could have been there to see how the students reacted to Jackson making his silly faces.

Clarice

The Faithfulness Award

We have a new plaque on the mantle of our fireplace. It says:

The Faithfulness Award
Ian Eyre
For your faithful service and unseen ministry to the Body of Christ

Ian got this plaque a few weeks ago at our twice-yearly leadership development time at Mosaic, our church home. Our pastors and paid staff like to recognize people who are contributing in a positive way to encourage them to continue pursuing the character of Christ. So out of the three thousand some people who attend Mosaic and the five or six hundred people who are considered to be a part of our leadership core, Ian was one of around ten to be recognized as those who exemplify faithfulness.

I wasn't surprised when Ian's name was called. That's my man. Faithfulness is such a great descriptor for him. In fact, I think it was one of the qualities about him that showed me that he was a man of substance (no, not the beautiful piercing blue eyes and the superb height which initially drew my eye). Thus, not surprised, but very, very proud to call him my husband.

Right after my swell of pride that what I saw in Ian had been recognized by others, I felt this little pang. I had this feeling that I had passed my prime. My time of ministry to the body of Christ was over. When I was a single girl, I could pour myself out in service to people in my community, at work, etc. But I'm not a single girl anymore. I have a husband and a son who I believe must take precedence over others.

In the middle of my self-absorbed musings, a passage creeped into my mind. I had been studying Proverbs 31 in an attempt to seek a model for what it means to be a godly wife and mother. See, in this passage, the writer lists all these things that this "wife of noble character" does. And smack in the middle of this very, very long list of amazing things that one woman surely couldn't do on her own, it says "Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land." And I realized that this is what I must do to move into my new prime, my new time. I may not be able to serve with abandon at Mosaic any more (pre-emptive aside: I do expect to continue serving, just not in such an all-consuming way). But I can pursue becoming a woman of noble character and serve my family so that my husband can continue to increase in his impact on the kingdom of God.

So all this is going on in my head while others were being recognized for their specific contributions to the body of Christ at Mosaic. Then they got to the last award - the Leadership Award. Pastor Erwin always mentions that people who are recognized with this award are at such a high level of commitment to service that they usually end up going overseas for full-time Christian work or joining the team of pastors or are called to be Elders. And he named Marvin and Jean. Again, no surprise. This couple has served people so fervently and been such a model of loving sacrifice. Lives have changed through their influence. And I had a new pang. I wanted that award. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that in a "I wanna be a superstar" kind of way. I just saw a new model to emulate. See, it was so clear to many of us that they are an amazing team, that they have impacted people, and that they do it out of passionate love for Jesus. In other words, they deserved that kind of recognition. Yet they went up to receive their award in a state of shock and truly deep emotion. What Jean said was so striking. It was something like, "I can't believe you're honoring us for just loving people, when it's so easy to love people." So maybe I don't really mean that I want the Leadership Award. Instead, I think I mean that I want to be like Marvin and Jean. I want to be devoted to teaming with my husband so that I bring out his best and he brings out my best. I want to invest in my son (and other future children) so that he (they) journey with us in sharing the love of Jesus with others.

So maybe I shouldn't think about being past my prime. Maybe I don't consider my time as being gone. Because this isn't about me. Instead, it may be about our prime being yet to come, our time just beginning.

Clarice

Say 'hi' or something.

Jackson often seems so serious in public. When he meets a stranger, he takes a minute to study their face, then he relaxes and interacts, often with a smile.

Today Clarice and I wheeled Jackson into a crowded elevator. Jackson began to stare down a man who caught his eye and Clarice piped up; "don't just stare, say 'hi' or something." As if Jackson could say 'hi' already.

After a lull, the man said 'hi.'

Now I know Clarice was talking to Jackson, but it dawned on me that the comment could have also applied to all the people in the elevator who were checking out the cute baby. I chuckled aside to Clarice; "did you mean that to Jackson or to everybody?"

Suddenly, a lady blurted out an awkward 'hi' as if she was caught staring and felt instantly self-conscious. It was as if Clarice had accused everybody of a social faux pas. Very funny. In fact, I couldn't stop laughing at the thought of Clarice scolding a bunch of strangers for staring at our kid and not saying 'hi.'

Ian

Quoted....Misquoted?

I was quoted in a story in yesterday's LA Times (click here to read). Just one nanosecond toward my 15 minutes of fame.

It's kind of interesting though. I talked to the reporter for about 10 minutes about my thoughts on a research study she was trying to summarize. Although she quoted me very accurately, it was just one sentence and didn't really capture the whole of what I was thinking about and trying to communicate. I was a bit frustrated because anyone who doesn't really know what I value might get the wrong impression about what I believe based on the way my quote was presented.

Then I had a spiritual insight, which I sometimes get at unusual moments. I started wondering if God sometimes feels like this. We humans often over-focus on specific things He says that we don't capture all of what He intends. And that one little thing that we communicate to others sometimes fails to represent Him as He should be known.

One of my colleagues who appears more frequently in print than I do, mentioned that he saw the quote. He understood immediately that I was quoted slightly out of context. Apparently he's experienced this before. He told me that every time he speaks in public, he is mindful of the possibility that his words could potentially be twisted. He said that I would just need a bit of practice learning how to monitor what I am saying to filter out the possibility of being taken out of context and to speak in small soundbites that represent complete thoughts. And again I think of the fact that if I have to be careful of what I say to represent UCLA well, so should I be careful in my speech and actions to represent Jesus well.

Clarice

America by train

It's been a month since our cross-country train adventure and I still think it's worth the time to write about it. I'll admit it. I've got train fever. I'm already planning our next train adventure up to Seattle at the end of March. I've taken the train before, from LA to San Diego and San Francisco and from DC to Boston. And I've driven cross-country twice. But there is something special about traveling cross-country this way. I'm glad it took a perforated eardrum to turn an interest in train travel into reality.

I don't know if you know this, but train travel is usually more expensive than flying. I didn't know it. Doesn't quite make sense, since it takes something like tenfold longer to reach your destination. So when we boarded our train, I made it a point to find out why others made this particular travel choice. Many of the people I talked to were semi-regulars. They took the train because they absolutely hated flying. To them, time and expense was worth it to avoid getting on a plane. Others were newbies like us. But their reasoning was that they made last-minute travel plans and couldn't get affordable plane fares. A significant group of people were doing it because they thought it would be a neat way to see the country. Then there were the regulars. They may not have been regulars on any specific route, but they were Amtrak regulars. They just loved making their way across the country by train. These are known as "train people."

I think I may be joining the ranks of the "train people." It was rather relaxing. The seats are incredibly roomy. Like the seats we always pass by in the first class section of the airplane. There was plenty of room to stretch out and Jackson didn't have to be strapped into a carseat. Instead he could exercise his freedom crawling up and down the aisle (and yes, mom, we washed his hands with soap and water right after letting him crawl). But the fun thing was being able to read, think, nap, and watch an occasional movie while making progress toward our final destination. And at any time, we could stop and gaze out the window and watch the country go by. Sure there were moments of boredom and cabin fever, but there were plenty of people to talk to and so much to see.

All aboard for Seattle!


Clarice

Jackson has a tail

Last night we were at small group. I took Jackson into what the Lorenzes call "the yellow room," which is where Jackson and his little 3 year old friend sometimes play while we adults engage in our small group activities. It was time for his diaper change. I wasn't sure if I should wait until the little girl left before changing his diaper, since they are of opposite genders. Then I figured it probably didn't matter, since kids are generally rather asexual. So she hung around while I did the dirty deed. As soon as I uncovered his...uh...diaper area, she laughed and pointed. "Look!" she exclaimed, "Jackson has a tail!" I figured I wouldn't correct her. Better to let her live in innocence just a little while longer.

Clarice

Mosaic Hard Core Values

Hey, just thought I'd let you guys know of a cool video I got to direct for my church. Mosaic has five core values that have been adopted by over fifty churches worldwide and I had a chance to take a crew back to my old special effects shop and represent each core value "Jackass" style. Hope you like it.

Ian

P.S. The video may only be available for another week or so. I'm sure they will put up the next video soon for the Soul Cravings series. When that happens, I'll post another link here so you can catch the 2 minute spot.

Camera Play

This is the new toy Ian bought me for Christmas. I had been thinking about getting into photography for a while. I come from a family of photographers. My paternal grandfather was a great photographer. He shot on a camera that was completely manual (of course, this was in the early part of the last century). My dad inherited his eye and started shooting digital shots a few years ago. You can see his images here. One of my distant cousins, Ted, also picked up some kind of photographic gene. And it even extends to those who marry into the family, my cousin Melanie's husband, Bob. So it's time for me to pick up the family tradition.

One of the most enjoyable things about our train ride from Atlanta to Los Angeles, was having abundant time to experiment with the camera. Click here to see some of our favorites. I think most of these shots are Ian's. But I have some pretty good ones in there too.

Happy viewing!
Clarice

Say Cheese!

Look at our little guy mugging for the camera. How does an infant know to make faces when a camera's on?

Welcoming 2007

It's been a whirlwind transition from 2006 to 2007. So many things to think about. So many changes with Jackson. But those posts will come later...

I've had a hard time letting go of 2006 until now. I have this practice of setting a theme for each year. I don't much like resolutions, because I can't seem to keep them. I do pick a set of goals that I want to achieve by the end of the year (leaves a little more wiggle room than resolutions). So every year, the goals are to go to bed early, be on time, start exercising... OK, so I don't make my goals. But at least I can claim that I don't break resolutions.

Anyway, my theme is what I focus more on. I spend some time at the end of each year assessing the experiences of the year and trying to figure out what I want to seek God about the coming year. So a year ago, I was a noticeably pregnant newlywed, still learning how NOT to be single. And the idea that kept coming to me was "brand new thing." It was based on a passage from Isaiah 43 where God is telling Israel to stop dwelling on the old ways He did things because He was going to do things differently. I knew that 2006 was going to be a year of change, having a baby and entering the second year of marriage. Getting married in my late thirties, I had grown accustomed to single life. After almost 2 decades of following Jesus as a single gal, I had a pretty good idea of what I needed to do in order to be obedient (notice I didn't claim that I actually did it). But the Bible outlines different expectations for someone who is a wife and mother than for someone who is single. So I wanted to focus on this theme of "brand new thing" to pursue what new way I should pursue in my roles as Ian's wife and Jackson's mother. And by the end of the year, I had no more revelation than I did in the beginning of the year. So I didn't want to let go of 2006. But earlier this week, I had remembered that something Pastor Erwin said in a message in December had hinted at a possible theme for 2007. So I pulled out my trusty iPod to check out what I thought was the podcast from that week. Well, a few minutes into the podcast, entitled "New under the sun," (look for the podcast here) I realized that wasn't the message I was looking for. Instead, it was THE message I was looking for. Erwin said...well, he said a lot of things. But he talked about this same passage. And the thing that really stood out to me was that the one thing that the world can really consider to be a "new thing" is what love does. Love can push us to do things that are new and different in the world. See, I had thought I was going to spend 2006 hearing from God what new things I should do as a wife and mother. But what I missed was that God simply wants me to love Him, love Ian, love Jackson, and love the people around me. And THAT is most likely what will compel the "brand new thing" I am hoping to see happen. I know it sounds rather simple. I probably can't explain it in writing very well. Maybe I'm too abstract for my own words. But I want to pursue this "brand new thing" of love this year. And I pray that I learn a new thing about God and myself in the process.

Happy New Year all! 2007, here I come!

Clarice

Great American Adventure

Today is day 2 of our Great American Adventure. We're taking the train from Atlanta to Los Angeles. It wasn't our original plan. We were to fly back to LA early enough to give us a few days to clean house (now that Jackson is crawling) before the New Year and the return to work. But I had a little mishap on the flight to Atlanta. Somewhere over Los Angeles, my eardrum tore. Apparently high pressure and congestion don't mix. The doctor I saw in Atlanta said it would be quite risky to fly again. My eardrum was healing well, but would be very susceptible to a repeat injury. So we're spending three days seeing America from the window of a train. I've always wanted to do this (once retired, and not with an infant). So we're making the best of it. Jackson's been great. He's making friends with everyone. Hopefully, we'll have some tales to tell and pictures to show when we return on New Year's Eve.

Clarice

Jackson Crawls!

This was from two weeks ago. It's like he was getting himself positioned in the starting blocks. Last week he started crawling and there's no stopping him. I think he's just so excited to be able to move himself to objects of interest. Now we REALLY have to safety proof the home....and get him that helmet.

Clarice

Updates

I posted a while back about entering Jackson in the BabyGap Casting Call. Well, he wasn't chosen as one of the top 10 finalists. We were a bit disappointed. We thought his chances were pretty good. After all, there were only 360,000 entries...

I also posted an entry entitled Catching the Cheese. I was kind of getting used to Jackson's little spit-up events and was thinking that perhaps my unnatural phobia of being near people who are vomiting (or giving any indication that they might vomit) had dissipated. Well just a week after writing that, Jackson came down with some kind of stomach bug (so glad Ian and I didn't catch it). Needless to say, his little spit-up events were just that - little. This was definitely different - on an entirely magnified scale. His first explosion resulted in me and him in the bathtub wringing out what surely had to be gallons of..uh...fluid of foodlike origin. How can one little baby produce so much stuff? I spent the evening unwillingly reliving the event. All night I could smell the stench in my mind's nose. Ugh! Gave me the heebie jeebies every time I thought of it. Funny thing is, I was just wondering at what level the expulsion of his abdominal contents would start to bother me. Well that was it. I think the key factor was smell. Now I'm wondering when HE will start getting grossed out. Apparently, it doesn't bother him at all. He unloaded his stomach contents the day after our experience at daycare. His teacher told me they had just laid him down for some tummy time. When they looked back to see what he was doing, he had covered the playmat with the remnants of butternut squash and Enfamil. When I asked if he seemed distressed, she replied in her happy, sing-songly, infant-care voice, "Oh no! He just squeaked and started finger-painting with it." Doesn't sound like it grosses him out.

Way back in July I wrote about an opportunity we had to go to Syria. Well, we were supposed to have gone two weeks ago. We didn't have to make the decision. The sponsoring organization decided to cancel the conference due to the conflict. But they left a standing invitation for future events. I hope to have another opportunity to go at just the right time.

Clarice

Being Thankful

I have a bad habit. I pick at my fingernails. Some Freudian types might suggest that it's transferance of the thumb-sucking habit I had to give up when I turned 3 years old. I don't know much about Freud. I just pick at my fingernails. Sometimes I focus on pushing up my cuticles. Sometimes I clean under the nails themselves. Most of the time, I pull at the little tags that form when my cuticles crack. 98% of the time, it's a bad result. I'll start pulling at the dead skin, hoping to separate it cleanly. But 98% of the time, I rip off a substantial chunk of my flesh, resulting in the spurt of fresh blood.

Sunday afternoon, I noticed another little crack in the cuticle on my right middle finger. I was able to resist for a about 20 minutes, but it kept bugging me. So I started to pull. I was smart enough to stop when I first saw the flush of blood. I actually contemplated walking the 12 steps to our bathroom where we keep the nail clipper, but I thought it would be too much work to walk. So I gambled on the 2% chance that it might be a clean separation of the epidermis from the dermal layer. Once again, I was wrong. This particular lesion was quite significant for a cuticle pull. It actually throbbed and I had to stop the flow with a tissue. I was a bit annoyed all afternoon. Function was a bit limited as I was trying to protect the now-exposed dermal layer of my right middle finger.

I was standing there in the bathroom, cleaning up my mortal flesh wound for the second time (I knocked off the plasma crusty layer washing my hands after a particularly productive diaper change) when my dad called on the phone, interrupting my self-pitying moment. He called to tell me that my aunt and uncle, who were visiting for Thanksgiving, had been in a car accident. They had just left my parents' home and were driving on the freeway when another car darted across the lanes of traffic and hit them on the passenger side. Their car flipped several times and landed upright, facing oncoming traffic. My uncle had some lacerations and heavy bruising, but was not in serious condition. My aunt was also in stable condition, but seriously injured her hand. According to my father, her right middle finger had been crushed and essentially filleted. The bone was shattered and her fingernail was gone. It was bad enough that the resident on call at the ER didn't quite know what to do. My dad called to tell me that he and mom were going to take my aunt, who is a nurse, up to her own hospital so she could see a hand specialist.

I felt like such a fool in that moment. Here I was bemoaning a little cuticle pull when at that very same moment my aunt, whose work requires dextrous hands, was facing possible compromise in the use of the very same finger. And I was finally able to look at my little booboo and be thankful that it was so insignificant. It's interesting what a little perspective can do. Hearing of my aunt's injury made me thankful that mine was so....nothing. Yet in her perspective, her serious injury, next to the possibility of lost lives, must also have paled in comparison. I do think much of it is about perspective. I sometimes choose to dwell on the little suffering I have rather than the great suffering that I don't have. And I sometimes forget about the blessings I already have as I think of the other blessings I want. So now I want to choose to do more than just give thanks on occasion. I want to choose to be thankful always.

Clarice

PS Please pray for my aunt's recovery. She had surgery Tuesday morning.

Little Girlfriends

Jackson and I spent the afternoon at the beach with Mikayla and her mom (yes, sometimes in SoCal we can go to the beach the Sunday before Thanksgiving). Being that Jackson is much older than Mikayla (at a whopping 5 weeks ahead), he spent a lot of time telling her what she could expect from life in the next month or so. To me, it just sounded like "meh, meh, meeeeeehhh" and "ah-bah, ah-bah," but she looked pretty intrigued with what he had to say. It reminded me that a few months ago, Mikayla's mom and I had been discussing how when we were young we thought the idea of arranged marriages was completely atrocious, but now we were coming around to the idea. I mean, how great would that be? You would know whether or not you could hang out with your future in-laws way before spending lots of money on a wedding. And you could get an idea of what your grandkids might look like. Plus, Jackson's got some great options.

Harper's been making googly eyes at him at least half his life and we really like her parents.

And he really enjoyed hanging out with Karis, even though she didn't have much to say to him. I think she's going through her "boys have cooties" stage a bit early. Problem is, I think our boy wants to pick his own little girlfriend.

Since the very first day of school, Jackson's had a thing for his little school friend, Lena. Last Friday, when I dropped him off at day care, he ended up right next to her. He patted her shoulder and she turned her cheek toward him. I saw him move in, but his motor control isn't quite developed yet. They ended up cheek to cheek for a moment before he started falling. If infant life is any predictor, it looks like his social life is going to be much more complicated than that of his parents.

Clarice

So much to blog about....

....so little time.

Possible future post titles:

More than just cheese
Cousins (in honor of Jackson's upcoming boy cousin, Junior Shih)
Fernald Friends
Syria
The beginning of campaign season
Fly in a bottle
Clee's Engaged!!
Action Jackson 2

The Ouch Report

All the little "friends" (cause that's what the babies are called) at Jackson's daycare have little clipboards where their activities for each day are recorded. We find out when they went down for naps (to the minute) and when they awoke. We find out what they ate and drank (to the ounce). We find out when they had diaper changes and whether the changes were W or BM (W=wet, BM=well...you know).

Well last week, there was a new sheet attached to Jackson's clipboard. It was an "Ouch" Report. Next to the injury type, there was a large check next to "bite." "Poor baby," I thought as I read. It was his left big toe. Then I got to the description part and cracked up. It said:

J. was playing on his back when another came close. In the "closeness," mouth and foot met

See for yourself


I love his daycare!

Clarice

The Land of the Definitely Maybes

I had a flashback to my youth a few months ago. I was remembering a trip I took with some family friends and relatives when I was about 12 or 13. It was the last day of our camping trip to Mexico. We were all packed and ready to go. We just had to make one last stop at the beach so our dads could clean the fish they caught before we started our long drive back home. So all of us kids poured out of our station wagons and motor homes to while away some time. I don't know who spotted it, but there was this great sand bar just off shore. The water was slightly more than ankle deep so a few of us kicked off our shoes and waded across. One side of the sand bar had a nice, steep incline so we started building not just a sand castle, but a sand community. After a while, my cousin Daphne (who is a far better writer than I and blogs here) decided that the community must have a name. So we called it the Land of the Definitely Maybes and began inventing stories about the people who lived in the community. I don't know why Definitely Maybes. Probably something about the indecisiveness marking our tweener years. Anyway, I guess we must have gotten carried away with our little kingdom (and the dads must have gotten carried away with fish-cleaning) because when we heard our mothers calling, we looked up to see that the cute ankle-deep channel we waded across to get to the sand bar had grown with the rising tide to become a waist-deep channel. No way about it. We all had to swim fully clothed across to the beach. Boy were the moms mad. All of our clothes were packed already so we all had to begin the journey back home in sopping wet clothes.

I don't blame the moms for getting mad. It wasn't the first time that I had dragged my younger cousins into some kind of trouble. I hide it pretty well now, but when I was younger, I had a habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences. Funny thing is, so many of those crazy events involved Daphne. There was the time we thought it would be fun to create "igloos" out of soap bubbles to house the little caterpillars that occasionally tracked across their back porch. A few hours later, we realized that caterpillars and soap bubbles are not compatible and that if you let caterpillars keep moving across the porch unharmed, you don't end up with dozens and dozens of foaming and exploding caterpillar carcasses on your aunt's back porch. Then there was the time Daphne's mom took me to visit a friend of hers. They had two daughters about our age. They had just had their house painted and it kinda reeked. One of the girls had been showing off her new felt-tip markers, which had lovely fruit scents associated with them. I thought it might reduce the stink of the room if I waved the most fragrant of the markers around (I think it was the grape and the blueberry). We noticed the improvement in the odor about the same time that we noticed the growing number of purple and blue dots on the freshly-painted walls of the room. That's when I learned that markers and centrifugal force aren't really compatible either.

So most of my thoughtless adventures weren't harmful. But there were other poorly thought out decisions that resulted in someone getting hurt. Like the time my brother and I "built" a "go-kart" out of a scooter, a skateboard, a piece of wood, and some rope. My poor 6-year old cousin had nothing to hold onto but the bottom of the board as we cruised down the street. And when the scooter and the skateboard went in opposite directions, her own weight brought the board smashing down on her fingers. Or the time I created a seesaw out of a sawhorse and a plank and challenged my neighbor to hold on while I tried to bounce her off. Since I was heavier and stronger, she did indeed bounce off...actually, she flew off, folding over on her stomach on the sawhorse. Or the time I created a slip-and-slide on the plastic sheet covering our backyard slope, not thinking about the fact that we might slide into the wooden stakes holding the plastic down (I still have a scar from that paticular adventure). Foolish choices, poorly thought out.

This week, I started thinking about the Land of the Definitely Maybes again. Something I received in the mail prompted my memories. It was a voter's information guide about Proposition 85, which "requires that a physician notify in writing a parent or guardian at least 48 hours before performing an abortion on a minor girl." I remember this Proposition not passing in the Special Election last year and it really grieved me. See, I can think back on my childhood and remember stupid decisions that I made. Some of them caused no harm, but others did result in someone getting hurt. And honestly, sometimes I had an inkling that there may be bad consequences. But the moment mattered more than the consequences. And I think about young girls who make decisions in the heat of the moment and don't think about the consequences. I do believe that they need to have the wisdom and guidance of their parents to help them deal with the consequences. Because sometimes it's like my experience in the Land of the Definitely Maybes. So caught up in their worlds of uncertainty, so wrapped up in fantasy that they don't see the tide coming in, don't understand the consequences.

So if you can vote, please vote yes on Prop 85 this coming Tuesday.

Clarice

Stage Parents

Yup. We're entering our little man. I first read about the contest in the newspaper column a friend of mine wrote, then our downstairs neighbor said they were entering their daughter, then a friend from church told me she was getting in on the action. Might as well join the fun. The odds are probably not great, but might as well. If (by some chance) we do win, he gets:
-Participation in a professional babyGap photo shoot
-Featured in our local Gap store window and Child Magazine
-$5000 college fund
-A year supply of babyGap clothing
-And more (with an exclamation point).

We have to pick 5 photos that we've taken to submit. Judging criteria:
-34% overall appearance of the baby as shown in the photo
-33% overall personality of the baby as expressed through the photo
-33% quality of the photograph.

So, dear friends, we need help picking some winning photos. We're going to make our final decision on Thursday (Nov 2).

Click on over to our family website, here, to view, then vote in the comments section of this post.

And if he doesn't win...well, we have some inspired photographs of him to keep forever and we've gotten a taste of what it's like to be stage parents.

Thanks!

Clarice

Catching the Cheese

Jackson has a weak esophageal sphincter. That's the band of muscle between the esophagus and the stomach. Its job is basically to keep the contents of the stomach from squirting up the esophagus (and out the mouth). Apparently weak esphageal sphincters are rather common in babies and tend to get stronger when they start sitting up more often. I sure hope that's soon. We're getting a bit tired of spitup. It wasn't so bad when he was a newborn. Just little trickles of fluid that still looked and smelled like what went down. By 2 or 3 months it started to smell a bit more sour. Ian and I started calling it "cheese" because it was like fermented milk. "Cheese" has become such a common occurrence in our life, we've starting using it as a verb as well as a noun (and sometimes even an adjective). For example, "Honey, what's that spot on your shoulder? Oh, looks like he cheesed on you again. Yuck! That's a particularly cheesy glob of cheese." See that - verb, adjective, and noun in one conversation.

Well, Jackson's cheese habit has changed my life. For decades, I've had a pathological aversion to...uh...the v-word. I myself have not tossed my cookies since I was 9 years old - not even when I was pregnant (I know, I'm to be reviled among women for an unusually easy pregnancy). And any hint that any person within 50 feet of me is about to lose their lunch and I'm out of there. It's a bad phobia. Check under the bathroom stalls to make sure everyone's shoes are pointed away from the toilets. If it happens - close my eyes so I can't see, cover my ears and sing out loud so I can't hear, bury my nose in my armpits (which usually don't stink) so I can't smell... Serious heebie jeebies. But with Jackson, it's been a mild introduction. Like I said, it was fairly innocuous at first and came without any sounds. But now that he's on solid foods, it's starting to have that smell...and that look...and it's often prefaced with that sound.

So last Friday I took Jackson to visit a former student and her baby (one of Jackson's future girlfriends) in their very well-appointed apartment (I don't know how two dental students can afford real furniture). I set Jackson down on the sofa, which was one of those lovely overstuffed comfy things. We were chatting nicely and watching the babies stare each other down, when I heard the sound. It was the little errrp that precedes the gush of cheese. My first thought was "Oh no! Not on the sofa!" And before I could think of what to do, I cupped my hands under his mouth and ended up catching the cheese. It was a rather disgusting experience. I would have preferred to have had a burp cloth. Or maybe even a bowl. But I suppose I should be somewhat grateful. After all, it seems as if I'm on my way to being cured of my vomitophobia.

Clarice

Political Minority

I had lunch today with a bunch of ladies I really admire. They are all incredibly accomplished, each with one or two doctorates, and all senior to me in the ranks of the dental school. But what I like about them is that they care about the things that I care about in the realm of the University. They all appreciate the value of research and discovery, but what really matters to them is that students grow and learn. That's the core value of these women that makes me really respect them.

So we sat together at lunch celebrating the submission of a grant on which we all collaborated. And, as is common these days, talk soon turned to the political. And this is where it got interesting. See, I'm a registered Republican. I'm sometimes embarrassed to say that because it makes me a complete, unrespected minority in the University setting. Plus, I'm really not too happy with what's happening with the party right now. What I really am is a conservative, and the Republican Party best represents what I value. Anywho, talk around the table turned to the political and I quickly learned that 5 of the 6 women were quite clearly Democrats (the last one was very quiet). And, as is common in conversations in my work world when politics comes up, they kept talking as if everyone was on the same page (which I wasn't). See, that's one thing I find interesting. I try really hard not to speak out of assumptions about people. I don't assume that all Christians are Republicans, because I've found that some are not. I don't even assume that all people who go to church are Christians, because I've found that some are not. I try to talk to people at a neutral level until I know where they stand. But I seldom have that same respect afforded to me by many of my clearly Democrat colleagues, who expect that I'll enjoy joining them in either a pro-abortion, or anti-war, or anti-free speech (I'm talking about truly free speech here), or anti-Bush, or anti-American, or anti-hetersexual marriage rant. And it sometimes just bugs me. See, here's the thing. Much of the time, I have the same core values as my friends in the University. I just have a difference of opinion on how to approach it.

One of the women was telling a story of how she became (as she put it) "such a flaming socialist Democrat." She grew up in a military family (which generally does not lean toward the flaming socialist Democrat mindsent). She recalled that when she was in the third grade she moved to the South. This was during the period of segregation. She said that one day at school she noticed that the girl who sat next to her in class was wearing an outfit that her family had given away to charity a few weeks before - her outfit. She said that realization changed her life. You know, I was so with her. I hate injustice. I hate racism. I hate the effects of poverty. But then she said something that separated me from her. She said "That's when I realized that there was something wrong with our government." I don't quite see it that way. I think the Bible is quite clear that humans were created to reflect the glory of our Creator, and that we are uniquely gifted and capable of generating good. And we are very valuable to that Creator. To me, that's why injustice, racism, and poverty are wrong. These are evils that violate our value in God's eyes. But at the same time, I believe that the same beauty placed within us is the key to addressing the world's ills. And I think relying on government to take care of the world's problems stifles the ability of people to step into the heroic. And this is what I found interesting at lunch today. The political view I choose to adhere to earns such disdain from those with whom I actually share the same foundational values.

Clarice

Beach Baby

We just got back from 8 days in Hawaii. 5 in Oahu, 3 in Kauai. Supposedly for an orthodontic meeting. I did go to some lectures, but spent plenty of time NOT in lectures. It was so nice...but also busy. Traveling with an infant when your other travel partners are single can be a challenge. But it was so fun watching Jackson enjoy new experiences. I think we have a beach baby on our hands.





Clarice

Fertility

I've been feeling a bit queasy for the past week or so. Just a low grade nausea accompanied by a slight headache and some generalized fatigue. The last time I felt like this was when I was pregnant with Jackson. And just like last year, I spent the first week living in denial. I mean, with Jackson, I didn't think it could be possible. We had only been married 5 months and I'm...uh...of advanced age. But it happened. The best little surprise of my life. This time around, I had a longer period of denial. After all, I've only recently showed biological signs of a return to fertility. Who on earth has babies 14 months apart? Certainly not in Los Angeles. So on Sunday, Jackson's 7 month birthday, I decided to end the denial. I dusted off my EPT (early pregnancy test, for those of you not in the know) and put it to work again. Ian was compelled to sit in the bathroom with me. I didn't want to face reality so Ian had to look for me....

Whew! Much as we would love to have another child, we'd sure like to wait a little while longer.

Clarice

Westside Babies

Jackson and his little church friends. There are so many babies at Mosaic Beverly Hills. I'm so glad that our son has a cohort of friends he can grow up with.

Clarice

Temper Tantrums

When I was a teenager, I was prone to irrational little temper tantrums. Quite a few of them were in response to things my parents said or did. I remember that my mom once told me that she thought I looked sloppy during one stage of my life. I was deeply offended and angry, despite the fact that I truly was going through a sloppy stage of fashion choices. My response..."Mom thinks I'm sloppy. I'll show her sloppy." So I chose to be even sloppier for a short time. Once my dad was offering me some feedback on my sweeping technique. I wasn't being strategic in my sweeping, brushing dirt over areas that I had already swept. He was suggesting that I start at one side of the room and collect all the dirt on the other. It was pretty good advice. I think I even recognized it. But there was no way I was going to acknowlege that and change my ways. I kept doing it my way. The dumbest tantrum I had was when I turned 16. I wanted to get my driver's license, but my parents said they wanted me to wait because the insurance rates would be too high. I was pretty ticked off. So I showed them. I told them I wasn't going to drive with them until they agreed to let me get my license. That showed them....NOT. But I've made some progress since then. I still have an occasional adolescent flare when my parents suggest something (pride, you know), but for the most part, I make an effort to understand where they're coming from and filter out what's useful.

I was reminded of my teen self when I heard how the fundamentalist Muslim world responded to Pope Benedict's comments about the importance of reason in faith. As you may know, the Pope was quoting a 14th century dialogue between Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Paleologus and “an educated Persian.”

In the seventh conversation…the emperor touches on the theme of the holy war. The emperor must have known that surah 2, 256 reads: “There is no compulsion in religion”. According to the experts, this is one of the suras of the early period, when Mohammed was still powerless and under threat. But naturally the emperor also knew the instructions, developed later and recorded in the Qur’an, concerning holy war. Without descending to details, such as the difference in treatment accorded to those who have the “Book” and the “infidels”, he addresses his interlocutor with a startling brusqueness on the central question about the relationship between religion and violence in general, saying: “Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.” The emperor, after having expressed himself so forcefully, goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. “God”, he says, “is not pleased by blood - and not acting reasonably is contrary to God’s nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats… To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death…”.

What happens?
This
This
This
This

I don't know. It just seems so juvenile. "What, Pope? You say Islam is violent? I'm offended. You better say sorry or I'll end up getting violent with you." I have such mixed feelings on how to respond. Part of me is annoyed and says, "Oh come on, just grow up!!" Part of me is frustrated with the political forces that would try to appease an ideology that has been returning to this kind of behavior for centuries. Part of me is sad that so many people are being manipulated by religious leaders who really don't care about them. And part of me is thinking that those of us who are followers of Jesus, who claims to be "the way, the truth, and the life," need to figure out how He wants us to slow the metastasizing movement of Islam by advancing the kingdom of God.

Clarice

Blink

Blink. My silly boyboy. He started making this face about two weeks ago. At first it was in response to the antibiotics we had to give to him to fight his first ear infection. Then last week, he started doing it at random when interacting with us. We're not quite sure what he's doing. He certainly knows how to smile at us.

Blink. In a blink of an eye he's showing signs of growing up. Not only is he trying to interact with us by making this face, he's growing up physically. Look at his little snowdrops. That's what MumIvy, my mother-in-law, calls baby teeth. It was a big day in the dentist's household when the first little toothy erupted.

Clarice

Five years ago today

September 11, 2001 was a significant event in my life. It was an unexpected violation. I was in dental school in the 90's when the Gulf War began. I remember talking to friends about how our generation hadn't lived in a time of war. But even that experience was rather removed - like it didn't realy happen. Acts of aggression were things that happened "over there." Not on our soil. The attacks of September 11 hit closer to home. So even though New York and Pennsylvania and DC are still "over there" with respect to Los Angeles, it still felt very invasive when the jets all hit.

The events of that day are rather surreal in my memory. I remember this undescribable dull roar of background noise like machine hum that I now associate with that day. I woke up that day to the ring of the telephone. Our friend Aaron caught the news and was calling people from our church community to alert them. Clee was the one who answered the phone at about 6:30 AM. I vaguely recall hearing her say "hello," then "WHAT" then "OK," before hanging up the phone. She tersely told me that something happened and we ran out to the TV to find out what. We squatted there in our PJs, not bothering to sit normally. Then we went to wake Lena and Cal up. It was such a strange morning. The four of us sat morosely in front of the TV all morning, not even considering going to work. We knew there was something big going on. By afternoon, we rallied ourselves to shower and eat. By evening, we moved to action. We opened our house to our community and whoever else wanted to come by. Over a three hour time period we had some 40 people come through to mourn with us, weep, and groan and pray for our city, our country, our world.

September 11 was the beginning of a new chapter for me. My life feels different now. One positive thing. I can see the value and the beauty of community. I was so amazed at how the country rallied in support under duress. And I was amazed at how the community I am a part of came together so quickly to pray. But another change lingers. Like many others, I have a sense that there's something happening now that we don't quite understand. It's happening at a profound spiritual level, requiring that I be vigilant and prayerful. And it makes me all the more compassionate for those who don't know the marvel of following Jesus Christ.

So I pray for the families who suffered loss on September 11, 2001 and I pray for this country and this world. And I pray that God would give us more glimpses of the beauty He has brought and will bring out of the ashes of that event.

Clarice

Content

Tonight I got a special treat. I got to hang out with a very good friend. We arranged to meet at a coffee shop. I thought maybe it would be like nights we used to have when we shared a room - just after turning off the lights and just before falling asleep - when one of us would blurt out some philosophical question that we couldn't answer, but would spend the next hour or so pondering, only to awaken the next morning cranky for lack of sleep. We never cared that much about the answer; we just liked the process of thinking about the question. But tonight, we just looked at magazines and compared notes on the fall TV season. We talked about everything and nothing. And I loved it. So wonderful to have friends with whom you can go deep or wide and not have it matter because you're together.

Tonight I got an even more special treat. My dear husband cooked me dinner, washed the dishes, did 3 loads of laundry, fed the baby, then went to the pharmacy because the baby has an ear infection and is VERY fussy and clingy. He shooed me off to go and enjoy time with my dear friend. And I loved it also. So wonderful to have a husband who is so attentive to my needs.

I am content...and very blessed.

Clarice

With a rebel yell...

Apparently, Jackson likes water.

Jackson wants....

...milk!!

Pathetic looking face, isn't it. As if it was the end of the world. In fact, we call this the "end of the world" cry. I saw this look 6-8 times a day his first 3 months and 4-6 times a day since then. It's the face Jackson makes when Ian stops feeding him for a moment to help him burp before inhaling the rest of his formula (so he doesn't lose it on the front of his onesie) and the face I see when switching him from one "milk container" to the other.

There was one nice thing about this cry. We knew exactly what it meant and we knew what we had to do to appease it. In general, "cry interpretation" has been fairly straightforward. Jackson usually only cries to have three basic needs met - when he's hungry, when he's sleepy, and when he's tired with his current environment. And the signs are usually fairly clear which of the three events must be occurring.

But something interesting happened last week. My family was visiting. My dad had Jackson on his lap and they were watching my brother and sister-in-law's dogs run around. My dad sat Jackson back on the couch and he started crying. We couldn't figure out what happened until my dad lifted him up...in sight of the dogs again. We experimented a bit, and sure enough, every time the dogs were out of sight, Jackson cried. When they were in view he was happy again. It was a sobering moment. The little boyboy is beginning to express more than just his needs. He's actually expressing his wants. And that's not the end of it. After 2 months of pretty easy bedtimes, he's taken to crying at the top of his lungs when we put him down in his crib.

Wants to look at the dogs. Doesn't want to go to bed. Wants to be held. Doesn't want to sit in his carseat. Suddenly parenting is getting difficult. Now we have to discern what it is that he wants and decide if he really needs it. I'm realizing what a fine line this is. After all, I want him to feel significant in our eyes, but not as if he's the center of the universe. At the same time I know I am wiser than he is at this point in time and I need to help him learn to make good choices. But I also need to learn to choose my battles so that I don't crush him when it would be no big deal to acquiesce to his wants. Oh boy. Just when you think you're getting the hang of parenting they go and mature a bit more on you, changing the whole dynamic.

Clarice

Bathtime for Jackson

A vignette captured by Grandpa Law, with special appearances by Grandma Law and Uncle Randy

Empty Nest

Last weekend I went to a party where the infant set swarmed. At one point, there were 3 nursing babies on the sofa. I would have been there with them too, if Jackson weren't at home being cared for by his Uncle Bob and Auntie Melanie. And the day before, I saw 3 friends who are all due in the next 3 weeks. The week before, a couple I've mentored for years had a baby and two weeks prior Ian's best friend and his wife (the friend's wife, not Ian's wife) also had a baby. Babies all around. Pregnancies abound. All this activity has made me feel rather nostalgic. I'm suffering from a variation of empty nest syndrome.

It's kind of funny. When I was pregnant, most of the time I couldn't wait for Jackson to come out. Part of it was exasperation at the discomfort of the pregnant condition. In my third trimester, one of the women I work with would regularly ask me how I was feeling. I'd usually complain about the weight gain, the annoyance of Jackson's hiccups 5-6 times a day (and late at night), and the discomfort of his favorite position, with his foot shoved up against my last rib. And she would always beam and say, "Don't you love it? Isn't it all so dear?" Well, no, I thought. It was uncomfortable. And I wanted to know what he would be like. I was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to find out what he would be like.

But now my pregnancy is over. So I've been reminiscing with these new and expectant moms about the last and first few weeks of pregnancy. And I've realized that there are times when I miss aspects of being pregnant. Now that it's over, I realized that it was dear to enfold his entire being within mine, right next to my heart (literally). I remember watching him when he was first born and realizing that the cute little head tilt he would do when crying was the same head tilt that applied enough pressure to my bladder to make me go running. The little kick that he made against my bottom right rib is the same kick that he now uses to rock himself in his carseat. Now, as he was in utero, he's a mostly mellow kid, who only gets really fussy when he's hungry or sleepy. I'm realizing that he was giving me hints about his personality even before exiting that world for this one. And I marvel that there are people who are confident that life begins at birth rather than in utero. I marvel that he's the same person he was before he was born. I do miss the breathless anticipation of waiting to see how those in utero hints about personality will bear forth. But I am so thankful that I have the rest of my life to watch how what I see now, ex utero, blooms as he grows to manhood.

Clarice

Jackson Pollack

Today Jackson explored painting by using his body. He was moving his arms up and down.

That's the note that was on today's pink sheet, our daily report of Jackson's activities. And this is the picture we were given.


I went to pick up Jackson for the first time on Tuesday. His teacher sat down with me to report on his day. "We finger painted today," she said. I had to stifle a laugh. I mean...really! He's not even 6 months old. What's he going to paint? She continued on. "Here are some pictures." Then I laughed out loud. This time because it was so darn cute. But now that I'm looking at his works, perhaps I laughed too soon. His style is somewhat reminiscent of Jackson Pollack's. Not so angst-ridden, but look at how he chooses to blend his colors. I think we have a budding artiste here.


Clarice

Washing dishes...

...before Jackson


...and after Jackson.


'Nuff said.

Immunity

Jackson got sick last week after his 3rd day at day-care, we think. He got a mild fever which kept him up Monday night. Then he was congested and couldn't breathe Tuesday night. Then he just didn't want to sleep Wednesday night. He finally slept through the night like usual Thursday night. Not so bad for a first illness...

When we interviewed for the day-care, we were warned that Jackson would get sick in the first two weeks, but that by the time he left day-care in a few years, he would be so much stronger. The children experiment with new toys, then share them and diseases are transmitted. But that's okay, because it makes their immune systems stronger than children who are not in group settings.

So they say.

So why is it that I just got Jackson's illness? I'm 35 years old! I've been working on my immune system in group settings a whole lot longer than Jackson's five months and I'm not stronger!

It's all a big lie.

I think I'm going to be getting sick a whole lot now and I'm very disappointed in my immune system. Come to think of it, though, I never went to day-care myself, unless you count the nursery at church. Maybe he will be stronger.

-Ian