Okay, so the breast milk soup was really weird, but Ben and Jerry's has been petitioned by PETA to use breast milk instead of cow milk.
This is so disturbing on SO many levels...
1. The obvious, who would you know who would eat breast milk ice cream?
2. How in the world could you get enough breast milk to supply all of Ben and Jerry's? Cows drink bathtubs full of water a day...they make gallons of milk a day...
3. Milking a cow is inhumane??? So it is humane to milk women? Hello!!!???
4. Diseases pass through human milk...that is why you don't see breast milk marketed at your local grocery store for babies. HIV and other diseases pass through breast milk.
5. Oh...my favorite...milk contributes to obesity...hello??? if you're worried about being fat, I'd suggest you just pass over the Ben and Jerry's altogether.
any more reasons and I'm afraid I'd be lending credence to this stupidity...
read for yourself...
http://www.wnbc.com/news/17539627/detail.html
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
My Heroes
My nearly two month long hiatus from blogging could be blamed on a lot of things. On the plus, we had some family vacation time, and I happily spent it getting kids in and out of swimsuits instead of on the computer.
But on the negative, I have been watching one of my dearest friends change into someone I don't know anymore.
At one point, and not even too long ago, we were mirror images, young mothers of little boys, trying to balance work and family, enjoying mommy nights eating Mexican food, comparing thoughts on baby carriers and strollers.
But as time progressed, my life became more focused on our rapidly expanding head count; hers became more focused on her career. Then one day, this summer, she told me she wanted a divorce. No counseling. No second thoughts. She wants to find her "happiness", but for those of us who love her, I'm afraid it is costing us ours.
I love my friend, and always will, but I guess this whole thing is making me realize that not all of us who show up for labor classes as a giddy new parents make it to our kids' weddings holding hands and wistfully wiping each others' tears.
Cheers to those of you moms who know you are making the right sacrifices to invest in the lives of your children and husband. Right now, the endless monotony of cleaning kitchens, clothes, and dirty butts can pale in comparison to the thrill of a successful project implementation in the corporate world, but 15 years from now, whose going to remember that project? And by then you'll finally have someone to clean the dishes and do their own laundry (and, thankfully, their butts, too).
I am truly inspired by the many women I know who embrace their role and serve their families. I have been sadly been made aware that not everyone does that. I don't want to fail at this job, so I want to surround myself with women like this, to encourage me through the disciplining valleys, cheer with me through potty training victories, remind me to flirt with my husband, and pray my children to Jesus...you are my heroes.
But on the negative, I have been watching one of my dearest friends change into someone I don't know anymore.
At one point, and not even too long ago, we were mirror images, young mothers of little boys, trying to balance work and family, enjoying mommy nights eating Mexican food, comparing thoughts on baby carriers and strollers.
But as time progressed, my life became more focused on our rapidly expanding head count; hers became more focused on her career. Then one day, this summer, she told me she wanted a divorce. No counseling. No second thoughts. She wants to find her "happiness", but for those of us who love her, I'm afraid it is costing us ours.
I love my friend, and always will, but I guess this whole thing is making me realize that not all of us who show up for labor classes as a giddy new parents make it to our kids' weddings holding hands and wistfully wiping each others' tears.
Cheers to those of you moms who know you are making the right sacrifices to invest in the lives of your children and husband. Right now, the endless monotony of cleaning kitchens, clothes, and dirty butts can pale in comparison to the thrill of a successful project implementation in the corporate world, but 15 years from now, whose going to remember that project? And by then you'll finally have someone to clean the dishes and do their own laundry (and, thankfully, their butts, too).
I am truly inspired by the many women I know who embrace their role and serve their families. I have been sadly been made aware that not everyone does that. I don't want to fail at this job, so I want to surround myself with women like this, to encourage me through the disciplining valleys, cheer with me through potty training victories, remind me to flirt with my husband, and pray my children to Jesus...you are my heroes.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Five Years
August 5, 2003 is without a doubt the day my life changed forever.
It is hard to find words to describe my life before that point. Without going into too many details or digging up the things my Lord has cast into the depths of the ocean, my life, from preschool through my later twenties was shadowed by a cloud of spiritual, psychological, and emotional abuse. Entrapped in the isolation of a cult, my life was not my own, but controlled by a malevolent leader, who by luring my mother, claimed her children as well.
My life was a pit of depression and hopeless drudgery. God seemed a far off diety, too angry to love me, too holy to tolerate me, and too powerless to change me. I was desperate to love Him, desperate to feel His pleasure, desperate to be accepted. My marriage was hanging by the most tattered of threads. I felt my entire world torn between what I had been told was right, and what I knew in my heart was right.
I prayed for guidance, and for the first time, believe that God could lead me Himself. I felt my life was at a crisis point: I loved two people in this world most of all, and I knew that in the end, I would lose one of them. And though in some ways, my heart was broken that day, the rest of my life began a miraculous healing.
I see myself in the backseat of a taxi driving to the airport in Montreal, praying for a miracle, praying I hadn't just sold my soul. I remember calling my husband, whom I had been separated from for months, and tell him that I was coming home.
And I remember waking up the next day, and feeling the release of that the burden that I had put on every day for as long as I could remember. A freedom that I can only liken to being set free unexpectedly from prison.
Since then, my life has seemed a dream. The Lord lifted me out of a slimy pit and has given me a firm place to stand. (Psalm 40:2) I have a restored marriage, restored relationships with my father and sister, a new life in the place of my childhood, and three little miracles I call my kids.
During the summer of 2003, the Lord ministered to me with many hymns. They were my lifeblood, the sustenance to which I clinged to for breath at times. Ever since I was set free, every time I am in worship, my eyes often overflow. At the beginning, I feared that I would eventually dull to the miracle done in for me and my tears would cease due to indifference. But I am so thankful that five years later, my eyes still mist when I think of what my God has done for me.
Among my favorite hymns was "Come Thou Fount". Every time I hear it, I think of it as God's special love song for me.
Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
I'll praise the mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of thy redeeming love
Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by thy help I come
And I hope by thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wondering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee
Prone to wander Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above
It is hard to find words to describe my life before that point. Without going into too many details or digging up the things my Lord has cast into the depths of the ocean, my life, from preschool through my later twenties was shadowed by a cloud of spiritual, psychological, and emotional abuse. Entrapped in the isolation of a cult, my life was not my own, but controlled by a malevolent leader, who by luring my mother, claimed her children as well.
My life was a pit of depression and hopeless drudgery. God seemed a far off diety, too angry to love me, too holy to tolerate me, and too powerless to change me. I was desperate to love Him, desperate to feel His pleasure, desperate to be accepted. My marriage was hanging by the most tattered of threads. I felt my entire world torn between what I had been told was right, and what I knew in my heart was right.
I prayed for guidance, and for the first time, believe that God could lead me Himself. I felt my life was at a crisis point: I loved two people in this world most of all, and I knew that in the end, I would lose one of them. And though in some ways, my heart was broken that day, the rest of my life began a miraculous healing.
I see myself in the backseat of a taxi driving to the airport in Montreal, praying for a miracle, praying I hadn't just sold my soul. I remember calling my husband, whom I had been separated from for months, and tell him that I was coming home.
And I remember waking up the next day, and feeling the release of that the burden that I had put on every day for as long as I could remember. A freedom that I can only liken to being set free unexpectedly from prison.
Since then, my life has seemed a dream. The Lord lifted me out of a slimy pit and has given me a firm place to stand. (Psalm 40:2) I have a restored marriage, restored relationships with my father and sister, a new life in the place of my childhood, and three little miracles I call my kids.
During the summer of 2003, the Lord ministered to me with many hymns. They were my lifeblood, the sustenance to which I clinged to for breath at times. Ever since I was set free, every time I am in worship, my eyes often overflow. At the beginning, I feared that I would eventually dull to the miracle done in for me and my tears would cease due to indifference. But I am so thankful that five years later, my eyes still mist when I think of what my God has done for me.
Among my favorite hymns was "Come Thou Fount". Every time I hear it, I think of it as God's special love song for me.
Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
I'll praise the mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of thy redeeming love
Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by thy help I come
And I hope by thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wondering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee
Prone to wander Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Weddings...
I attended the wedding of our former babysitter tonight. I love weddings, they are such a wonderful celebration of family, of marriage, of children, of hope, of future.
I noticed that my notion of weddings has recently changed. Whenever I went to a wedding as a girl, I would end up dreaming of my own wedding (which really ended up being a glorified elopement, so not a fairytale...except I did get my prince). And now, despite the fact that my children are very young...I dream of their weddings.
That thought put me in tears through most of the night. The idea of my baby girl walking down the aisle with her daddy. Dancing with my sons at their weddings. My husband commented that I may be rushing things a bit, they are still in diapers, you know.
But I guess what made me winsome was the realization that a wedding, probably more than any other event, signifies the end of parenting. Now my duty is to fill these many days before those wedding bells ring with the task of raising my children to be godly mates for whomever the Lord choses for them. A daunting task, but a wondrous one as well. I've recently begun praying for their mates should they marry.
My children will likely move out before they marry. They will (hopefully) become independent before they say "I do". However, not until marriage does another person supersede the place of a parent. They will leave us and cleave to another. One day my little girl will wrap another man around her finger like she did with her daddy in the delivery room. And I hope to be the queen in my little boys' hearts for years to come, but when "she" comes, I sincerely will happily relinquish my throne.
I noticed that my notion of weddings has recently changed. Whenever I went to a wedding as a girl, I would end up dreaming of my own wedding (which really ended up being a glorified elopement, so not a fairytale...except I did get my prince). And now, despite the fact that my children are very young...I dream of their weddings.
That thought put me in tears through most of the night. The idea of my baby girl walking down the aisle with her daddy. Dancing with my sons at their weddings. My husband commented that I may be rushing things a bit, they are still in diapers, you know.
But I guess what made me winsome was the realization that a wedding, probably more than any other event, signifies the end of parenting. Now my duty is to fill these many days before those wedding bells ring with the task of raising my children to be godly mates for whomever the Lord choses for them. A daunting task, but a wondrous one as well. I've recently begun praying for their mates should they marry.
My children will likely move out before they marry. They will (hopefully) become independent before they say "I do". However, not until marriage does another person supersede the place of a parent. They will leave us and cleave to another. One day my little girl will wrap another man around her finger like she did with her daddy in the delivery room. And I hope to be the queen in my little boys' hearts for years to come, but when "she" comes, I sincerely will happily relinquish my throne.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Bit of Bad Attitude
So, it is nearly 11 pm on a Wednesday night, and I have one heck of a mess to clean up in the kitchen and dining room downstairs.
A family member had the "significant other" fly in today to "meet the family", but said family member doesn't have a house suitable for entertaining. So it was agreed that we would have a BBQ here at our house so we could have a proper family event.
I really had a great time, but I guess I feel that there has been a lost art in "helping clean up". I was trained to help or at least offer to clean up after a dinner party. I admit that sometimes that doesn't seem like an attractive offer to the host since I have three kids under three, and usually after dinner, one or more is going into meltdown.
However, if someone is throwing a party on my behalf, I'd like to think that I'd make the effort to clean up to help out as a gesture at least of appreciation. And this family member had no kids.
I guess as a stay-at-home mom, I feel that sometimes people think I must have nothing to do and have a world of time to prepare for dinner parties and do load after load of dishes. I can't begin to express how little extra time I have, sometimes I feel guilty for going to the bathroom! In reality, I feel like this dinner party has consumed two entire days of energy...and it isn't that I begrudge doing it, I guess I just feel more taken for granted than appreciated.
A family member had the "significant other" fly in today to "meet the family", but said family member doesn't have a house suitable for entertaining. So it was agreed that we would have a BBQ here at our house so we could have a proper family event.
I really had a great time, but I guess I feel that there has been a lost art in "helping clean up". I was trained to help or at least offer to clean up after a dinner party. I admit that sometimes that doesn't seem like an attractive offer to the host since I have three kids under three, and usually after dinner, one or more is going into meltdown.
However, if someone is throwing a party on my behalf, I'd like to think that I'd make the effort to clean up to help out as a gesture at least of appreciation. And this family member had no kids.
I guess as a stay-at-home mom, I feel that sometimes people think I must have nothing to do and have a world of time to prepare for dinner parties and do load after load of dishes. I can't begin to express how little extra time I have, sometimes I feel guilty for going to the bathroom! In reality, I feel like this dinner party has consumed two entire days of energy...and it isn't that I begrudge doing it, I guess I just feel more taken for granted than appreciated.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I'm about to throw in the (workout) towel...
Okay, so I am now 5 1/2 months post-partum. I gained 51 pounds with pregnancy #1. Only 30 with pregnancy #2. And amazingly enough, about 22 of those pounds were gone within the first 10 days. That's the good news...the bad news is that these other eight are sticking on me like white on rice. You know the kind, the ones that don't come off with breastfeeding and ditching potato chips. You actually have to work at them. Okay, but I've been working now for a few months and seem to be getting nowhere.
So I have slowly worked myself to the conclusion that I just needed to exercise. And the only way I could figure out how to workout without spending a fortune at the gym or hire a babysitter during the day was to do the 5:30 am kickboxing at our church.
I started last month. Four weeks into it, I have not lost a single pound! This is most frustrating.
What I have gained is a grouchy attitude from making no progress, a tired existence as I wander through the day having gotten up at 4:45 am, and plaguing guilt if I think of skipping a day.
I race to bed right after the kids go to bed in an attempt to get my sleep in, but between a hubby who sleeps at 11 pm and a baby who gets up to eat at 3 am, I am finally realizing that this is not working.
I'm thinking my post-partum body is somehow stubbornly retaining these extra pounds probably cause I'm still mostly breastfeeding. I'll "enjoy" their company throughout summer season and hope that I can give them away by Christmas. In the meantime, tomorrow, I'm sleeping in.
So I have slowly worked myself to the conclusion that I just needed to exercise. And the only way I could figure out how to workout without spending a fortune at the gym or hire a babysitter during the day was to do the 5:30 am kickboxing at our church.
I started last month. Four weeks into it, I have not lost a single pound! This is most frustrating.
What I have gained is a grouchy attitude from making no progress, a tired existence as I wander through the day having gotten up at 4:45 am, and plaguing guilt if I think of skipping a day.
I race to bed right after the kids go to bed in an attempt to get my sleep in, but between a hubby who sleeps at 11 pm and a baby who gets up to eat at 3 am, I am finally realizing that this is not working.
I'm thinking my post-partum body is somehow stubbornly retaining these extra pounds probably cause I'm still mostly breastfeeding. I'll "enjoy" their company throughout summer season and hope that I can give them away by Christmas. In the meantime, tomorrow, I'm sleeping in.
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