Planet RMFO Blog

Atticus and his Grinch.

“Take Joy” by Fra Giovanni

I salute you! There is nothing I can give you
which you have not;
but there is much, that while I cannot give,
you can take.
No heaven can come to us
unless our hearts find rest in it today.
Take Heaven.

No peace lies in the future
which is not hidden in this present instant.
Take Peace.

The gloom of the world
is but a shadow,
behind it, yet, within our reach,
is joy.
Take Joy.

And so, at this Christmas time,
I greet you,
with the prayer that for you,
now and forever, the day breaks
and the shadows flee away.

• Woke up to a text from my mom "Only two more sleeps". I'm glad I'm not the only one who is excited. #
• Kicking off vacation with a nap. #
• Dreams are for sleeping. #community #

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Adriene took a new job this year so she did not have very much vacation time. The girls are in preschool so this week I’ve had the whole house to myself during the day. I gotta admit, selfishly, it’s been incredible. I love my family but I don’t get much time to myself anymore to stop and reflect so I’m finally taking some time, on this darkest night of the year, to look back a little bit.

Halfway through this year, I was pretty sure it was going to be a bad year. Things were not going well in multiple aspects of my life. Thankfully, autumn arrived and with some changes my outlook on life improved. During the first half of the year, I didn’t do very much socializing and I started to let my job and caring for children start to smother me. I’m such a paradox, I don’t really like doing stuff with people every night, but it’s also emotionally damaging to spend too much time alone. I’ve tried to balance things out a little better in the second half of the year and it has been beneficial.

Raising two three-year olds was not easy this year, but it was a whole lot easier than raising two two-year olds last year and in September they turned four. So far, four has been even better. I hear we are entering the “golden years” for little girls where daddy is their hero and they haven’t become teenagers yet and boys and phones and makeup all become bigger priorities. I hope so. I’m not going to lie, the last years have been hard. Maybe one child would have been easier, but twins have felt like riding out a hurricane. It has gotten steadily easier year after year and I like the trend, but make no mistake, I still haven’t fully recovered from the first couple years. I am still very tired most of the time. We’ve had some fun but I’m hoping for even more fun in the next few years.

I miss some of my big Christmas traditions. I used to go see Over the Rhine or Andrew Peterson in concert, but neither came near Atlanta during Christmas and travelling is not as practical as it used to be. We tried to drive around and look at Christmas lights, but the girls were over it within ten minutes. What they really love most is to put Christmas music on the stereo and dance around the room. Each Christmas has been one of firsts and this is the first year that the girls have started to get a grasp on Advent. The Incarnation is still a little above their minds. They know that Christmas is birthday of Jesus but right now God is somewhere on the same plane at Santa Claus. I don’t want to blow their minds too much, there’s plenty of time for philosophical discussions in years to come.

So, for the time being we’re starting new traditions. Rocking around (quite literally) the Christmas tree, lighting candles, and drinking tea with my little Snow Princesses. Next week I’ll be home alone again and we’ll renew the annual Playstation Smackdown, I’ll rundown my favorite albums of the year, and clean out my office which will no doubt spur nostalgic moments. The year is slowly closing to a good end and we’re going to try and start 2012 as well as 2011 is ending.

The Days Only Become Brighter From Here
December 21, 2011

• RT: @MarkMatlock We didnt send out Christmas cards…David Crowder Band & 4000 yth workers http://t.co/UogVM5B This is cool. #
• Call me crazy cat lady all you want, I'm gonna miss this guy while we're in Cali. http://t.co/7HoyNmj #

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KARI: Atticus, who am I? Say Mama! Mama!

ATTICUS: Dada!

KARI: No, Atticus, Mama. Say Mama.

ATTICUS: Dada!

KARI: Atticus. MAMA. Say MA-MA.

ATTICUS: Da-DEE!

Fin.

• Lots of visitors today! Enjoying the distraction on this Christmas week. #
• Party Planning Committee. #

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By now all of you know that I’m the father of two children. (If you didn’t know this, please leave this website and delete your browser history.) They are lovely kids, as children go. The older one likes to jump while shouting in a low, hoarse register and the younger one regularly spills milk all over her face. In these ways, they are identical to me.

Life with two kids has definitely been an adjustment. Most moments around the house are spent comforting a crying child or having my crotch pulverized with a plastic baseball bat (by my wife, for doing this to us). There’s noticably less peace and quiet and considerably more time spent vacantly staring in the distance amidst the chaos. My wife Bridgette represents the eye of the Welle household hurricane, while the rest of us relentlessly whip around her – Alice crying, Oliver getting into mischief, and me offering unhelpful, unsolicited jokes. She is a beautiful, smart woman and an assured mother. She does a great job of putting up with my behaviors and redirecting me to clean the toilet again.

One of my favorite things about Alice joining our family has been watching Oliver enjoy being a big brother. Whether he’s poking his finger deep into her mouth or dropping to dead weight and laying on top of her, he is truly infatuated. Often as he is positioning my daughter’s feet behind her head, he turns to me and explains, “Helpful!” In those moments, I thank him for his servant’s heart and gently return her to a customary human position.

Things have changed quite a bit for me the past couple years. I eat alone at Wendy’s a lot less often these days, and I only rarely get to watch Minnesota’s fine sports teams on TV. The fact that those activities were about as good as it used to get for me demonstrates how far I’ve come. I’ll gladly trade those for my new family, even if it means that I get less sleep at night and must carefully apply various creams to my children’s anuses.

What kind of king would leave his throne
In heaven to make this earth his home?
While men seek fame and great renown
In lowliness our king comes down

Incarnation is a big word. It means the Word made flesh and dwelt among us. It means angels and shepherds and a stable. It means The Sermon on the Mount and walking on water. It means parables and disciples and overturning the tables, so many things all the way to the crucifixion. It means nothing is impossible with God. It means love.

You left the sound of angels’ praise
To come for men with unkind ways
And by this baby’s helplessness
The power of nations is laid to rest

It manages to be both overly familiar and too big to take in, this story we celebrate. An angel came to Mary and told her she was going to have a baby. And that baby was God. We revisit it every year, pulling the nativity out of the boxes in the attic. We do our Advent readings, we sing the songs, and we tell the story over and over, trying to understand.

What kind of king would come so small
From glory to a humble stall?
That dirty manger is my heart, too
I’ll make it a royal throne for you

One way that I try to make it real is by putting myself in the nativity scene. This year, Mike and Atticus joined me. We have a dinosaur to represent Atticus, our loud, silly boy. There’s a seahorse to represent Mike, because seahorses are the best dads around. And Mike got a goblet to remind me that I am still a human, still a grown-up. I can still enjoy pretty things. Even though I am tired and drained, the Incarnation is for me. Even though Mike has had to work overtime to take care of our family, the Incarnation is for him. The Incarnation is for Atticus, even though he doesn’t know it yet. All three of us are there at the manger, waiting, watching, wondering.

Jesus, Jesus, precious One
How we thank You that You’ve come
Jesus, Jesus, precious One
A manger throne for God’s own Son

The Incarnation is for you, too. No matter what kind of year you have had, or how you are feeling, or whether you understand it. The God who came and took on human flesh, who was born in a stable probably doesn’t mind if our hearts are a little dusty and dirty as long as we are making space for him. May the wonder of it all strike you anew this year.

My heart is a throne
My heart is a throne for God’s own Son

—

Lyrics by Julie Miller. Sadly, I could not find a video of her singing it. Please don’t go watch the videos that feature Third Day. Seek out the Julie Miller version. Thank you and good night.

• Only plans today 9:30 breakfast with a friend and now lunch with coworkers/friends. #happydayofftome #
• I adore Dace Rogowski #

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• Exciting day for the Hope Chapel Community. First Sunday service in our very own building! #
• High of 73 on Christmas Day. Thats what Im talking about #NotDreamingOfAWhiteChristmas #

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Relax, friends, and enjoy a Michelob.

Beaten down by Christmastime worries? Not sure where the next paycheck’s coming from? Scavenging for food from a dumpster behind Perkins? A cold, tasty Michelob is the cure for what ails ya! Join me on this bean bag and imbibe!

I regularly turn to Michelob’s classic bottle shape and crisp, amber refreshment when I’m in need of a pick-me-up. Sometimes after I run down a cat with my Hyundai, I need a way to slow the adrenaline and feel the emotions of the moment. That’s when I reach for a Michelob. Cracking that bottle open, I feel like a man applying clown makeup for the first time in his life: purposeful and renewed.

In case you didn’t know, Michelob is a kind of beer.

There’s just something about Michelob (beer) that makes me want to live a vigorous life. It makes me stand up and dance – not the effeminate sort of dancing you might see on television, but a Michelob sort of dance: standing in place in front of a full length mirror and thrusting one’s pelvis while biting’s one’s bottom lip. Michelob brings out the best in me; it is the Stephen A. Douglas to my Abraham Lincoln.

Michelob is like Stephen A. Douglas in other ways, too. Both are short, squat, and advocate popular sovereignty.

Setting the issue of slavery in the territories aside, my offer of a stout, frosty Michelob still stands. Though you brusquely declined and left the room several minutes ago, I will continue my entreaty indefinitely and keep a bean bag warm for you. There’s a whole case of Michelob where this one came from! Drinking it will make our friendship blossom!

Michelob: casually racist beer for lonely men.

Hey, what ever happened to tinsel?

Unless you’ve lapsed into a egg nog-induced coma (henceforth to be referred to as “nogbrain”) you’re no doubt aware that the Christmas season is here. This is a glorious time of year in which children become ulcerous with anticipation and adults hazily reminisce about the disappointments of Christmases past.

Also, aunts are briefly spoken with.

Sadly, in recent years I have noted a general absence of tinsel. Once upon a time, tinsel was synonymous with Christmas. Its shiny brilliance signaled the splendor of the savior of the world coming to Earth and its cheap artificiality made it available to everyone from the portly plutocrat to the lowliest Irishman. Today, however, trees are rarely draped with tinsel. Instead they are debased with a smorgasbord of crafty knick-knacks and pop cultural twaddle. Our Christmas trees now look as if a Hallmark store vomited all over a Balsam Fir. We have traded the nobility of tinsel for fickle tchotchkes, like a man trading his Buick Regal for a single night with a Cambodian street woman.

Like all things true and pure, tinsel came from Germany. Emerging in the 1600s from the black forests of Bavaria, tinsel found favor as a simple, shiny distraction from the Thirty Years’ War and unspeakable Hessian godlessness. Much later, a single strand of tinsel was then brought to America by a doe-eyed orphan boy. The tinsel-bearing urchin was received at port by the corpulent President Grover Cleveland, who rewarded him with mustache-tickles and a pony. Newspaper accounts of this memorable encounter delighted Americans and popularized tinsel itself. All of this information and more is available in my new book, This is My Truth: The History of Tinsel & Everything Else.

I guess we’re left to try to somehow enjoy a Christmas without tinsel, which is like an Independence Day without hot dogs or a Columbus Day without scolding editorials. I’d say we’d all be better off nogbraining ourselves.

See you in my coma dreams!

• Fun knowing the Chick-Fil-a Kid Cow. @ Chick-fil-a http://t.co/4r0id9x #
• My version of formal. Ready for a youth dance. http://t.co/Tou0ofG #
• Oh Cupid shuffle. #youthdance #
• I may have danced to "All the Single Ladies". #youthdance #

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photo by six steps shared under a Creative Commons license.

To take communion is to remember. We are told to search our hearts beforehand, an injunction that I take seriously but find problematic. There is the pesky in-law situation, and the person in the next pew who unfriended me on Facebook. I search my heart but find no clear sign of what to do. My attempt at repentance is important, but it sometimes misses the joy of a shared meal. Instead, I approach the table with a sense of being trapped in the mess of my life with no way out.

To take communion is also to remember the stories of Jesus, as the liturgy says. Take and eat, take and drink in remembrance of me. The act of remembering goes deep, these stories that I have grown up with, down to the toes of the patent leather shoes I wore as a girl. I carry those stories with me, just as I carry all the ages that I was when I heard them for the first time, all the ages that they have shaped me. To remember them is to remember myself.

This year, I have encountered the stories of Jesus in new ways. The Incarnation is so physical and earthy, now that I have experienced childbirth. Those stories about the least of these and Jesus’ relationship with little children make more sense now that I have cared for someone so helpless. And that command that Jesus gave during the Last Supper, take and eat my body, broken for you. I have spent the entire year saying that to Atticus, keeping him alive using my body. I have felt jagged and broken as I carried and cared for his new life, and that sense of being broken has stayed with me. I have always rolled my eyes a bit at women who declare that they love their stretch marks because those stretch marks brought them their children. But I have more respect for my body and its brokenness now than ever before.

I have heard women say that parenting is sanctifying, and I did not doubt that that would be true. Eleven years of being married have smoothed some of my rough edges. But I did not know that the act of breastfeeding would cause the story of Jesus and his broken body to resonate more deeply with me. Perhaps it would have helped if I had made that connection sooner, had seen what I was doing as a profoundly spiritual act rather than simply a physically draining one.

We take communion to feed ourselves, body and soul. I dip my bread in the wine and think of the baby we are celebrating as well as the baby I kept alive this year using my body. That I was given the strength to make it through this year is a nourishing thought. I remember Jesus, and I remember myself.

• Last youth group of the year tonight. Looking forward to the break but I know I will so miss these students (always do). #

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• I'm married to a college graduate. So thrilled for and proud of @jasonwindsor. Onto the next adventure! #
• This is the most excited I've been for lunch in a long time. #

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• I can't wait for the day when I no longer get too-early-to-be-calling-calls from the coffee shop to come in 'cause someone didn't show. #
• Pulled the bags out. Packing for California has begun. Less than two weeks away! #

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Many thanks to Lou Braga (@Photog4NY) who shot and edited this terrific overview of the first day of our Mars Curiosity NASATweetup!

Mars Curiosity Tweetup Day 1 from Braga on Vimeo.

• Last Hope Chapel at Lindley Elementary http://t.co/3oXxIDP #

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• RT @karibaumann Muppet Christmas Carol. #bestchristmasmovie #
• So next weekend? Saturday high of 68. Sunday? High of 33! #

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• My subject of a photo this afternoon http://t.co/oLwPg5J #
• I get really pranky when I drink. #ilovejim #

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This post originally appeared on my blog two years ago, but it deserves another look!

Attention all Tolkien language geeks, my friend, Patrick Wynne, sings “A Elbereth Gilthoniel” (by J.R.R.Tolkien) to the tune of “O Tannenbaum.” Brilliant.

(if you have trouble viewing the video, refresh your browser)

Lyrics:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
O Elbereth Starkindler,
silivren penna míriel
white-glittering, slants down sparkling like jewels,
o menel aglar elenath!
from the firmament the glory of the starry host!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
Having gazed far away
o galadhremmin ennorath,
from the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
to thee, Everwhite, I will sing,
nef aear, sí nef aearon!
on this side of the Sea, here on this side of the Great Ocean!

Special thanks to Pat for letting me post this here!

Clearly there is something mesmerizing and delightful about anything that has to do with fractals (at least, that’s what I think). This fractal tree generator is a wonderful way to explore fractal designs.
Original link. Thanks to @GabrielleNYC for sharing with me!

Hey friendly friends! You feel that buzz in the air this morning? It’s not from the dozen 5 Hour Energy drinks I just sucked down – it’s because we’re loading up the bus for my school’s middle school retreat!

In just a few moments, I’ll take my seat for the two hour bus ride into the deep recesses of Minnesota’s frigid wilderness, accompanied only by dozens of giggling pre-teens playfully stealing each other’s hats and babbling about Justin Bieber’s exquisite mouth. Sometime during the trip, I will demand silence from the students and deliver a 40 minute harangue about what it was like when I was a teenager: when Huey Lewis’s “Power of Love” blasted from every boom box and old Doc Brown was nothing more than a disgraced kook making side deals with Libyans. The students will likely stare back at me blankly, only escalating my agitation and forcing me to loudly, hurriedly tell them about all of my adventures through the circuits of time.

Once we arrive at the rustic retreat center, the students will get to spend the next 24 hours binging on nature. We will learn about owls and recycling and which girls have a crush on which boys. We will trudge through the woods in the bitter cold listening to some college student talk about wolves and wishing we could just go home where it’s warm and there aren’t as many wolves. Then, upon eating a breakfast of steamed eggs and gray, rubbery meat, the learning objectives of the retreat will have been accomplished. Probably the only thing worse than going on a middle school retreat would be the Bataan Death March, in which some 10,000 American and Filipino POWs died a cruel death. Aside from that though, this is the worst.

Fortunately for the students though, they don’t know that yet. Right now, they’re excited. I suppose I’m a little excited too, but mostly for the steamed eggs.

This is why I got my Master’s Degree.

• Got us a new shower curtain liner. #treatyoself #

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• When you are wearing pajamas with Uggs at 4pm in Target, you can not be the one to give me a weird look. #
• Sometimes you just have to turn off the Christmas music. #
• WHOA. "The Christmas Toy" is on Netflix. I totally remember that movie…and no wonder I enjoyed Toy Story so much. #samestory #muppets #

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I still remember the first time I saw Kermit riding a bike. It was magic, plain and simple. My parents wisely did not try to explain away my amazement. They let me sit there on the floor in wide-eyed wonder.

(There’s supposed to be a video here. If you’re not seeing it, maybe refresh your page?)

We saw the new Muppet movie over the weekend, and, yes, I cried. Afterwards, I noticed that I was moved not by the story itself but by the scenes that made me remember what it felt like to watch the Muppets as a child. Seeing Kermit play his banjo and watching the whole gang sing the intro to The Muppet Show turned me into the four-year-old who recorded Muppet News on her Fisher Price tape player with her cousin. The five-year-old who sat on the floor watching The Muppet Movie on TV. The girl who still watches The Muppet Christmas Carol every year (what, like you don’t?).

So much of Christmas is about wonder. The lights turned low, so the Christmas tree and the candles shine. The music that we pull out only after Thanksgiving. A story about a little baby, God incarnate, born in a dirty stable. I like concrete answers. I like to know why things happen and the history behind it all. But this time of year, I long for stories that build on that sense of wonder. I reach for my friends Frodo and Charlie. I reject straightforward non-fiction in favor of a more fantastic approach.

When we talk about what kind of Christmas memories we want to make for Atticus, wonder is at the top of our list. The decorations in the neighborhood, the luminaries in the park, the presents we share. And the story of Jesus, God’s love made flesh. So even though Kermit and Fozzie and Miss Piggy have nothing to do with Christmas (and even though the movie was just okay), I think that spending an evening with them was a good way to prepare my heart during Advent. Their “affectionate anarchy” via music and laughter is not as removed as one might think from a story about a God who became man and turned the world upside down.

For the record, I still don’t know how Kermit rides that bicycle, but I’m pretty sure it’s magic. When Atticus asks me one day, I will say, I wonder how it works, too.

• There's a Pandora station called "Christmas Shoes". @brian_shearer must of made it. #
• Jason looked at our calendar and said "Do we really leave for California in 2 1/2 weeks?" We do! #soon @tomincarlsbad @cbadbee #
• The only yeast I'm not afraid of: http://t.co/nv5A3bw #

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• It's amazing how much drama happens in front of our house late at night. #
• Today at church we got Donut World, sang ass in a song & also sang an @andrewpeterson song. May not of been super mature about one of those. #

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Check out this photo from Chase Clark. He’s got a series of photos from the initial 1.6 seconds of the Atlas V rocket launch (Nov 26, 2011) that is propelling the Mars Curiosity rover to Mars.

Notice the ice on the rocket. Why is there ice? Why does it break off like that? What happens after it breaks off? Be curious and find out!

• Wash the pot you made grits in right away. #learnedthehardway #

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Lately I have been learning to parent to two babies. To be a better housewife and Mother to these beautiful blessings. I love them, but life certainly is different than it was just a few short years ago. I wouldn’t trade it though.

Take our recent roadtrip to visit my sister. The drive is about 300 miles. The first few hours passed quickly, it was thanksgiving, our babies sweetly sleeping in the back of our car. We stopped when they woke up, our two year old stretched her legs with my hubby while I fed our 4 month old.

We got back in the car, our daughters belly full of goldfish crackers and orange juice, we set up the dvd player for her to watch curious george….about 15 minutes later we hear crying from the backseat. I look back to see our daughters arm covered in Vomit. We were at the longest stretch of road with neither a fast food restaurant nor a gas station. I am praying something comes up soon, thankfully we found a McDonalds and a family dollar. I send my husband to retreive paper towels and garbage bags, I take my daughter into the restaurant to wash up, having stripped her sweatshirt and pants, in only a t-shirt and diaper.

We stayed their for a little while, Elise eating like nothing had happened, stealing our fries, I fed the baby again, Phil did his best to clean the carseat. I learned something that day though, about our families ability to weather the rough things. I would have thought that would be the worst thing that could happen, but really we dealt with it.

~~~~~

Later that weekend we braved the mall. I was meeting a college friend and her new husband for lunch. First, we didn’t have a stroller because we didn’t have room in our trunk and I assumed the mall would have stroller rentals. Lunch went ok, finding a place to nurse was a little stressful, huddled in a dressing room I was making the best of it. Then a parent came in with a child who kept shrieking at her brother who kept coming in to the room. Plus their was carrying of the 15 pounder across the mall.

We met back up with my friends and planned to meet them our in the parking lot.  Then, my hubby went to get the car.

He calls me, I am on a bench with the babies, two diaper bags and a build a bear.

“I don’t know what to do, I can’t park and I can’t pull up.”

I load the babies in my arms and find a stray target cart. I hear an officer, “Ma’am you’re going to have to go back in the building. There is a small fire and four fire trucks will be pulling up here shortly.”

Now, I am not sure what reason tells us that we should go back in the building that is one fire. He wouldn’t let me head into the parking lot. So me and the babies headed back in the mall, we took the cart back to the other end of the mall, up the elevator 4 floors and across the mall. We entered the Target store, wanting to meet Phil at another entrance. Then, the cart promptly locked upon crossing into the store.

Eventually with the help of an employee  we dragged the cart far enough into the store to get the wheels security feature reversed. I found my husband and met back up with our friends who had some Christmas surprises.

So much drama.

We headed back to my sisters, and got lost on the way. But, that’s a story for another time, somebaby needs to eat

Tomorrow I will don my authentic Adrian Peterson game jersey to attend a meaningless Vikings game in which Adrian Peterson will not be be playing due to injury.

This is my life.

Some of you readers may be rolling your eyes as if to say, “Hey Peter, snap out of it! You’ve got a loving wife and two beautiful children and a great job and a magnificent beard! You’ve got it all! Women love you and men want to be you!” Of course all these things are true, but they aren’t enough. What’s the point of having a hot wife and a sensible Hyundai Sonata if the Minnesota Vikings are 2-9?

To make matters worse, the Vikings will be facing Tim Tebow and the Denver Broncos. Tebow, as you are no doubt aware, is the buzz of the NFL – a balanced blend of Johnny Unitas’s moxie and guile with St. Francis of Assisi’s piety and throwing motion. Tebow and the Broncos have shown a remarkable ability to defeat miserable, lethargic teams like the Vikings after lulling them and the entire viewing audience to sleep through the first three and a half quarters. Odds are, I and the other fans in attendance will be fed a steady diet of punts, Toby Gerhart runs and wildly errant passes for three hours amidst the dreary, unnatural ambiance of the Metrodome.

I’d rather have horrible diarrhea in a mall bathroom than do this.

However, since I’m going on the occasion of my dad’s birthday with he and my brothers, it seems only right that I should tag along, albeit sullenly. After all, my dad has given me so much over the years, and my brothers each attended my wedding, so I suppose I owe them something.

Seriously you guys, nothing matters.

• I dreamt that Flight of the Concords lead worship at Fall Retreat. #youthministry #
• A bug is going around. Which makes me thankful we purchased that 4 pack of orange juice at Costo. That will finish this weekend. #nosick #

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• Alright, all babies of friends are born! (4 within just a month of each other) Yay for many friends with new babies in 2011! #
• Adding some new additions to my Christmas songs mix… any favorites? Im looking for upbeat since I default to acoustic/folk and have a lot. #
• Oh and of course I have the She and Him Christmas album. See what I mean? Folk. This Toby Mac album is tempting… I know! Help! #
• #Community has quickly become one of my favorite shows. And not just 'cause of @joelmchale (though he is adorable, even as a dark character) #

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Come and lounge with me.

Let us drape our bodies over one another as we lay relaxed on fine leather furniture. We will coil our appendages tightly together like two boa constrictors strangling a grizzly bear, yet the touch of our skin will remain soft and giving, like a fat man dry humping a cake.

Unnatural similes aside, I beckon you to join me in a sensual, mutually satisfying lounge. My arms are open and my lips are moistened slightly in anticipation of our relaxing recline into one another. In the sweet stacking of our bodies, our two essences will pool together into metaphysical union. In our repose, we will become one, just like Reconstruction make America one again, except ours will feature no flagrant racism or carpetbaggers.

A great riddle in my life has been the lack of reciprocal lounging I have been able to entice people into. Be they friends or random passersby or Tom Bosley from Happy Days, others have shown a striking resistance to my invitations. I have tried every conceivable approach to these requests, from tearful to profane to shockingly profane, and nothing seems to work. Recently I have taken to displaying myself in an enticing manner on tabletops in public spaces. This has won me only a scolding from a shift manager at Burger King.

Now that you know my history, I will make the stakes clear: without your body warmly enveloping mine, I am nothing. Without the weight of your body pressed against my chest and your breath soft on my neck, I will almost certainly throw myself into an empty mine shaft. I have lost all perspective on this.

Just give me this one thing. Come lounge upon me. It will be glorious.

It would feel weird not to post today. Since I have been writing to Atticus, I thought I’d share one of my favorite poems about mothers and sons. Billy Collins makes the world a better place.

—

“The Lanyard” by Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

• Saying flu in a coffee shop is like saying bomb on an airplane. #getoutofherenow #
• RT @lziesel: Should the husband be the provider for his family? ://t.co/m9AECrPs \\ good conversation to be having. #
• Stunning and sad at the same time: http://t.co/mOVX86Y #thanksforthestorynpr #

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Here is collection of all of the daily thankful posts I made on Facebook. As someone who has expectations too high for myself and too high for others, I often am not very thankful. It was very good to stop and remind myself to be gracious at least once a day. Now, as the month of November wraps up, I am throwing myself full-on into Advent and the coming of Christmas. More to come here soon.

I’m going to try to post something that I’m thankful for every day in the month of November. Today I am thankful for ALL OF YOU. Thank you for your birthday wishes. I wish I could have a conversation with each of you and thank you personally but for now Facebook will have to do I guess. I feel very loved.

Today I am thankful for the loyalty of Adriene Hodges Holland. No matter what mood I’m in (and it varies greatly), she’s always a constant with how she deals with me. I know I can always count on her when I make tough decisions, even if she doesn’t agree she helps us present a unified front to our children and to the outside world.

Today and I am thankful for my daughter Erin. I’m thankful for my little girl that loves frilly things like bows and dresses but also loves kicking the ball around with her daddy.

Today I am thankful for my daughter Maria Grace. I’m thankful that though she spent the first hour of her life in the NICU, she has grown into a tough little strong-willed girl.

Today I am thankful for Saturdays in the fall. College football and soccer on TV

Today I am thankful for a safe birth for Aaron Manes and Brandi Smith Manes. Congratulations!

Today I am thankful for my parents. I’m thankful that they raised me with love and trusted me enough to give me lots of independence as I grew up. I’m also thankful that they are now grandparents that give us a little time off now and then.

Today I am thankful for my in-laws. I’m thankful that they give us wisdom without meddling in our business. I’m thankful for the vacations we’ve spent with them. I’m especially thankful that they live in a place as scenic as Savannah that makes every trip feel like a vacation.

Today I am thankful for other men that follow God and are honest and open with discussions about what it means to be a follower of Christ, a father, a husband and a leader with humility and love.

Today I am thankful for the diversion of football. I’m thankful for seeing old friends at tailgates. I’m thankful that today is GAMEDAY!

Today I am thankful for veterans and current members of the military serving overseas and here in the States. Thanks for keeping us safe.

Today I am thankful for Saturdays with nothing planned.

Today I am thankful for church and that I live in a place where I am free to worship how and where I choose.

Today I am thankful for music….especially new music. I love discovering new artists, new bands, and new songs.

Today am I thankful for the rare quiet moment in the middle of the day when I can take a break from work, go for a short run, and clear my mind.

Today I am thankful for lunch with my wife.

Today I am thankful for coffee. I could’ve had an IV stuck right into my arm with coffee during the girls’ first two years. I still need a dose every morning.

Today I’m thankful for Jennifer Cartwright and the great job she does babysitting our children!

Today I am thankful for soccer on Saturday mornings.

Today I am thankful for Thanksgiving lunch with my family.

Today I am thankful for three-day work weeks.

Today I am thankful that we are not travelling this Thanksgiving. Looking forward to a quiet holiday at home.

We put our turkey in a cooler outside to soak in the brine and I had a nightmare last night that bears ripped the cooler open an ate the turkey. Today I am thankful that bears did not eat our turkey last night.

Today I am thankful that I am not shopping.

Today I am thankful I am not a Georgia Bulldog.

Today I am thankful that the girls take a Sunday afternoon nap, because daddy sure needs one.

Today I am thankful for 2.5 GB of Christmas music uploaded to my iPod. ‘Tis the Season, chumps!

Today I am thankful that the heat in our house works.

Today I am thankful for a good month. November has given me plenty of opportunities to contemplate what I am thankful for and it is good for my soul to remember that.

I am always trying to encourage people to Stay Curious. Sure, I can give you information (and will be happy to), but often it is better for people to be curious about something and discover answers for themselves. However, many folks are out of the habit of being curious, so I will help prod you a bit. I ask you, why should this NASA photo of the Atlas V rocket which launched on Sat., 11/26, make you curious?

1. What are those billowy clouds coming out from the rocket? It’s not smoke!
2. Why are the booster rockets on the side asymetrical? There are four. Why aren’t they evenly placed around the main rocket?
3. What are those towers around the rocket? Why are they taller than the rocket?
4. What is that “train” track in the foreground?
5. Do you know what is inside the rocket? Where is the payload? How does it get out?

Hints to help you:
This rocket launched off SLC 41 (that may help you get information about the launchpad configurations)
The group responsible for the rocket was the United Launch Alliance

Here’s a link to the Astronomy Picture of the Day, where the photo was highlighted on Wed, Nov 30th. Read the caption there and you will find links to several aspects of the launch and mission.

Now, go get curious. And stay that way!

Dear Atticus,

One thing that made me hesitate about having children is that I know people who don’t seem to like their own. They take no apparent pleasure in spending time with their kids or focusing on their kids’ interests. They roll their eyes at their children and don’t seem to engage them very much. It seemed as if the parenting options were to be disinterested or to be like the chirpiest Christmas letter imaginable. I wasn’t happy with either end of the spectrum. (I am not known for seeing things in moderation.)

A few years ago, I was hanging out with some other women who were doing the thing where they complain about their husbands. Afterwards, one of them said to me that she noticed that I don’t complain about your dad. Which is true. I don’t talk about him dismissively or roll my eyes at him (except maybe when he makes a terrible joke). I enjoy spending time with him, and I try to take an interest in things that are important to him.

But for some reason, Atticus, I didn’t realize that I would feel the same way about you. I thought you would be a kid, and I am not so interested in kids. I am sorry, sweet boy, that I wasn’t more excited about you joining our family. I didn’t know you would be a person. I didn’t know you would be you. If I had known how bright and funny and wild you were going to be, I would have been so much more excited to meet you.

Maybe people tried to tell me, but I just couldn’t understand. Maybe it was something that I had to experience in order to learn. I was afraid I was going to have to hang on until you were older. I was prepared to do that, because I hoped you would one day be interesting. It took a while for me to be won over. I had a lot of ideas that needed changing. Even if every minute is not a joy, I don’t mind spending time with you. I don’t dread all those soccer practices and piano recitals like I used to, because you interest me even if those things don’t particularly.

This, of all the letters, is my love letter to you. I saved it for the end, but it sums up what I have been trying to say all along.

Watching you emerge has been a revelation.

Love,
Mama

Dear Atticus,

Virginia Woolf famously said that a woman must have money and a room of one’s own if she is to write fiction. I don’t know anything about writing fiction, but I believe that men and women need those things in order to be people. And my own experience is that resources and physical and emotional space are crucial to motherhood.

Your dad and Grammy have been great about helping to schedule our time so that I got physical space away from you regularly. That might sound cold and uncaring, but you have needed me pretty much every three hours since January, and before that, you were living in my body. We have a lot of resources, and we have had plenty of support. We had meals and extra hands, and we have good jobs that provide enough money for us. And still, with all that help, I felt lost. Diminished as a person. Physical space away from you has helped me to reclaim a sense of who I am. It has also helped me to love you better, to get a better perspective on who you are without feeling quite so needed. Grammy has taken you for a night here and there since we would let her. This fall, your dad made it possible for me to go away for two separate weekends. He has not had any weekends away from you this year, just one short overnight field trip in the spring. But he made sure that I got the time I needed. I got to meet a writer I enjoy, spend time with friends, eat good food, and stay up much too late. It was healing to be with people I love.

[Aside: I feel compelled to tell you that there were also adventures in pumping on these trips. Because, of course there were. There was a TSA employee who said I couldn’t fly with my pumped milk even though the policy says I can. But, don’t worry, I had five copies of the policy printed out with me, so it all worked out. Also, I have now pumped several times in a moving car on the highway. (Someone else was driving.)]

Your dad and I spend more time together than the average couple, but, from time to time, we need vacations from each other. I think that time apart makes me a better wife to your dad. It makes me appreciate him more and miss him when we are apart. Your dad and I will need vacations from you, too, to help us be better parents. When I was gone from you, I missed knowing what you were doing, missed your sweet smile. But I did not regret being away.

I think space away from us has been good for you, and I think it will be even better for you as you get older and continue to develop your independence, your personhood. I watch my middle school students negotiate their changing family relationships all the time, and I will try to remember the things I have seen when things shift for us as well: knowing when to let the reins out, when to let things slide, when to let you make mistakes. You don’t have money yet, but you do have a room of your own, my favorite in the house. We had such a good time making your space special for you. Now we are starting to learn about how to give each other emotional space as well.

Love,
Mama

• Anyone going to Trader Joes anytime soon? I'm going through this yummy tea like crazy and need more! http://t.co/L4Hwp9d #
• Been watching All American Muslim. Apparently Muslims can cuss all they want, this I did not know. The show is very interesting. #

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Dear Atticus,

A few weeks ago, one of your classmates took her first steps! Your teachers called her Mom excitedly. Mom excitedly called Dad. And Dad said, “That’s nice.” This was not a sufficient response for Mom. However, a little while later, as Mom watched on the video camera, Dad showed up and tried to get your friend to walk to him. Turns out her Dad is a softie after all.

Your dad saw her walk again that afternoon when he picked you up, said he cheered with everyone else. He told me the story when I got home. There was a lot we didn’t say that day. Neither of us voiced the question we were thinking: What would we do if you took your first steps at school instead of with us? It’s the kind of question I squint to avoid looking at directly, averting my gaze lest it burn me. Apparently your dad felt the same way, so we spoke solely about your friend and her great accomplishment.

You have been close to walking for a while now. Grammy and I were both walking at nine months, and we thought you would be right behind, surely be walking by ten months yourself. But you got lazy, preferring for us to hold your hands and let you walk around. (Sometimes I would see you on the video camera at school, walking around with your teachers, and I was thankful that someone else was dealing with a sore back while I sat in my comfy chair.) You got to the point where you would take a step without knowing it while cruising the furniture, and your dad started winding you up (as it were) and letting you walk across a room on sheer momentum. When you figured out no one was holding you, you got mad.

But now you are finally doing it, taking steps on your own. The first time was in the back room at your Great-Grandma’s house. You did it a couple of times for your dad, and then once for me. I like to think that you waited for us to be able to see you, and you waited so that you could do it somewhere important (even if your dad and I were the only ones to see). You did not want us to have to answer those unspoken questions. And now? Now you are cruising down the hall.

You have been so unsettled as you have been learning this new thing. You were acting like a growth spurt/Wonder Weeks checklist: sleeping poorly, being clingy, eating less. It has been hard for you to settle down at night, hard to slow your brain. I know the feeling, buddy, and I am sorry. I hope that getting the hang of this walking thing will help you feel like yourself again.

We hear that things are over for us now, but it has seemed like they were over for a while, since you were mobile. I always wondered if it would be hard to let go in order to teach things like walking and bike riding and going off to college. It turns out that we were so busy being proud that we didn’t notice.

You still get mad when you realize that we have let go. But it already takes you the whole hallway to figure that out.

Love,
Mama

P.S. At school, you generally crawled around with another little boy. I loved watching you on the video as you entertained each other. Now, though, there are three of you–your walking friend has started playing with you as well (and I guess she is a good influence). Your teachers say you are inseparable, call you the Three Musketeers. When your dad told me about this, I said how nice it was that you guys started letting her play with you. Your dad looked at me and said, “Maybe she lets them play with her.”

P.P.S. That’s why I love your dad.

Return to my bosom, wayward teens, and feed upon the nurturing milk of this new Rock TV!

I’m pleased with how this one turned out. I think the gags are consistent, and the message works pretty effectively. Certainly, as a Christian and as a parent, I can relate to the impulse to create a “safe” cocoon inside our home or small community safe from the crappiness of our neighborhood or the attitudes of our society in general, yet that certainly is not how we are called to live as Christians. That’s the tension that supports what’s happening in this video and the concept of a Christdome. That, and the unhelpful phenomenon of creating “Christian” versions of secular products and establishments, generally to the benefit of nobody. In fact, for some Christians, these distractions can actually suck up all the oxygen in the room to the point where they don’t even exercise their own prayer life and relationship with God anymore because they’re so busy with these distracting peripheral issues.

Hopefully, we also made the video funny enough along the way, so those themes go down easy.

Stray thoughts:
-I don’t know if we maximized its potential, but the “Christian Muppet Babies” bit is a definite favorite of mine.

-The myriad fist bumps and soul patches comes out of a number of interactions I’ve had with various pastors (not my own) who, in an attempt to be “relevant”, utilize such measures. To me, fist bumps and soul patches signify “Christian hip” (not a compliment).

-I went way overboard during the shoot with extended fist bumps and overeager grabbing of my co-actors, and we had to carefully scale that stuff back in the editing stage. Unfortunately, that results in a few awkward edits, but whatever. I just need to work on being more under control when on camera, I guess.

-Here’s a still image from a deleted bit from the video that we eliminated because it was just too strange. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but a number of people have commented pointedly that Rock TVs are getting really weird lately, and we didn’t want to push things too much on this project. (That’s for NEXT video…)

Enjoy!

This is terrific. Bill Nye, the Science Guy took a picture at the NASATweetup and tweeted it.

Watch this video to see what we saw on Nov 25, 2011 in the NASATweetup twent! I’m to the left of the aisle at the first table (as you look at the speakers), wearing a white shirt.

Arise from your filthy beds, thirsty children, and slake yourselves off the chafed nipples of Rock TV!

Hooray for a new outtakes video! This video (like our outtakes projects in 2009, 2007, 2005, & 2003) features winning smiles, jocular belly-slaps, and giggles aplenty. It also features Todd Luker repeatedly demanding beans.

I don’t have a ton to say about this project, other than to note that it was a pleasure to assemble. I was happy that I was less promiment this time than I was in the 2007 & 2009 incarnations , though this was due more to the fact that I had fewer acting roles than any increase in my professionalism or ability to properly deliver a line. Fortunately for the ministry, Will Hines stepped in with a few well-delivered ad libs about kidnapping Al Gore’s children to save the video for us.

Enjoy the pleasure!

P.S. The song is “Skate With Me” by a Minneapolis band called Kubla Khan.

• Pumpkin Pie for breakfast. What? You can't good leftovers go to waste. #
• Oliver is tired from all the Christmas decorating http://t.co/9A5OtVq #

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I have a friend who says that Advent is his favorite season. Why? I think because Advent is a time of exquisite balance between the sadness of the mess we live in, and the bliss of the world we would like to live in. Advent is when we acknowledge that bliss is not the blotting out of pain with port and plum pudding, but a process, a pilgrimage, a pregnancy, and–amidst the chaos of the world’s governing–a cry for the coming of the reign of God. – Margaret Hebblethwaite

Church candle on black by KOREphotos. Shared under a Creative Commons license.

—

Dear Atticus,

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, the time when we prepare our hearts for the celebration of Jesus’ birth, the arrival of the light of the world. I sometimes feel a need to prepare my heart for Advent, but you don’t advent Advent. That’s why we celebrate it, so we can give our hearts space to be ready for Christmas. We read books and sing songs and get excited about what is coming. It helps if you also celebrate Christmas until Epiphany, so you can give your heart plenty of time for Christmas once it gets here. But your dad and I never manage to make it quite that long.

Last year, I felt as if I was making the journey with Mary, feeling you kick just as she must have felt the baby inside of her. Last year, we were waiting for our lives to change. We were waiting expectantly for you. And you have been a light in our lives, with your sunny smile and quick laugh.

But this has been a dark, tired year with a steep learning curve. Here at the end of the year, I feel as if the light is finally breaking in. You are not taking such a physical toll on my body, and it is making a huge difference.

In my own life, I have found that a large part of faith is just showing up. I have not shown up this year. I could not see the point, because there was no light breaking into my darkness. Now, though, I feel a hope and optimism that I have not managed in a while, one that is difficult to put into words. During Advent, our work is to wait and watch. I like this because it takes the pressure off. We don’t have to have perfect Christmas cards or neatly wrapped presents. We don’t have to remember to do our Advent reading every single night. We just need to be paying attention, ready to see the light when it appears.

I hope you learn how to pay attention. I can’t tell you what that might look like for you, but in my life it means things like reading The Divine Hours, helping people who need it, and seeking out people’s stories of faith. Your dad helps me to see when he encourages me to take time for myself, believes in my dreams. Some people journal, some take walks, some paint, some go camping. The important thing is to make yourself open to the light.

Being open to the light might not sound like much, but I am content to do the work of waiting, to expect that Jesus will come, to let Christmas happen to me. It’s a risky proposition: there’s a good chance that it might just work through me to change the world. I find it hard to believe in that sort of thing sometimes. But then I remember that change doesn’t often look like fireworks in the night sky, but instead like a single star shining persistently, showing the way.

Into the darkness, the darkest part of the year, the light of the world arrives. And so we wait, expecting to see.

Love,
Mama

We’re still in Cocoa Beach, FL after spending several days with folks from around the world who participated in the Mars Curiosity NASATweetup. Here’s a quick taste of the events. More to come!

Video of the Pre-Tweetup dinner at Dixie Crossroads restaurant in Titusville, FL.

Mars Curiosity Tweetup dinner from Braga on Vimeo.

Video of Bill Nye, The Science Guy, speaking to the NASATweetup tweeps in the twent on Saturday right before the launch.

Video of Bill Nye, The Science Guy, and Astronaut Doug Wheelock handling Q & A.

Video of will.i.am (!) speaking to the tweeps about making science cool and communicating enthusiasm to kids so they will reach for the stars (literally).

• I didn't think my love for the Muppets, then I saw The Muppet Movie. Go see it folks! It's quite lovely. #

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Mike contributed this letter.

—

Dear Atticus,

Early in April I took you to meet a friend and she asked me how I had changed since you arrived. What had I come to appreciate more about life? She didn’t mean for me to share “how precious sleep” was to me. It was intended for me to think about how you are making me a better man, how you are helping me to better appreciate the world around me. I didn’t have an answer that I found sufficient. But I often think about that question.

I know I have changed since your birth. I know I am happier than I’ve ever been (and that is saying something because your mom and I were pretty happy before you arrived). Your complete helplessness those first few months gave me purpose. You broke through my hidden rooms and softened hardened parts of my heart. Cradling you while you slept made me cry like I hadn’t done in decades. I was proud to be your father. I was determined to give you the love and tender care you deserved. I longed to instill in you the hope I have for this world: that one person’s actions can change the world, but even if they don’t, at least that person can leave the earth knowing it is a little better than how they found it.

You’ve lived on Earth less than a year. However, in that time, you have done exactly what I have hoped you would do with your life. You have made your part of the world a better place. You have healed broken hearts. You have shared your joy with others who needed it. You have made two very selfish people give more of themselves than they ever thought possible. You have had a small carbon footprint thanks to your cloth diapers, second generation clothes, toys, and books (I’ll explain that one to you when you are older).

Another way that you’ve changed me is that you are making me better at my job. On the first day of school this year, I told my class about you. I showed them a slideshow of your best pictures from this year (they “Oooohed” and “Ahhhhed” in the right places). I then let them know how you make me a better teacher. I have seen at the beginning level a person who needed to be taught everything. The patience needed to teach my students grew enormously. I’ve worked with your mom to teach you how to eat, sleep, drink, play, sit up, roll over, stand up, learn language. We are teaching you to be filled with wonder, to ask questions, to figure out how things work. All of that takes patience. It takes repetition. It takes an understanding that you don’t know how to do those things. I realize that you want to do those things, both to please us and also to push yourself.

When talking to a friend who is a priest earlier this year, he shared with me how frightening it is to have kids because they can innately model your negative qualities (as well as your good). He said I will see you do something wrong or annoying and I’ll instantly know that is something that I do or have done. I try to be aware of my actions, my choices, because I know that I am, at least for a time, a role model to you. Therefore, you also have changed me because you have exposed my insecurities and my faults. I don’t want to pass those on to you so I’m trying to face them or figure out a way to keep you from picking them up. It will take courage, honesty and consistency.

I want to teach you how to be part of a family, how to be a good friend, and how to work well with others. The best way I can teach you this is by, first, modeling my expectations and then guiding you when you don’t know how to follow my example. I won’t write out a sad tale of woe, but I know that in order to teach you these things, I need to be a better relative, friend, and coworker. I am saddened that it has taken me this long to figure it out. I hope I have the courage to change or the honesty to tell you how painfully lonely it can be sometimes to live this way. I want to change because I know it will be best thing for you (and, coincidentally, me).

Can you believe that your tiny little self has had that much of an impact on such a tall, bearded man? I can’t believe it myself.

Love,
Dad

• And now, Christmas music must be played! #officiallyallowed #
• Best first song of the season? "It's Beginning to Look A Lot like Christmas", Harry Connick Jr version. #christmasmsic #
• Raking leaves while listening to Christmas music http://t.co/5AdU0gq #
• 30 bags. (more leaves still, ran out of bags) http://t.co/5Rz8qUO #

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Dear Atticus,

Every year on Black Friday, your dad cranks up the Christmas music and gets the boxes down from the attic, and we let the decorating begin. We put up our tree and make our own turkey (and four or five side dishes). (Your dad likes the leftovers.) In the past, it has been a lazy day. Sometimes too lazy, to the point where I have felt that we wasted our time.

I was apprehensive about this year, to say the least. I didn’t think you would be very interested in sitting and watching us put up a tree, but I also knew that we wanted you to participate. We wanted to show you the ornaments and tell you their stories and we wanted you to sense some of the excitement as we wait expectantly. We want to make things special, not just for you but with you. And Christmas, for parents, is a lot of pressure. We aren’t completely sure how to navigate it responsibly. We started early, hoping for the best.

And, what do you know, it was one of those days where everyone seemed to hit their marks. You played with some ornaments (you only broke one), you loved your Grinch doll, and you were amazed by the lights. Also, you had two good naps and ate a lot of turkey. We had everything decorated and packed away in record time, and the meal went as smoothly as I can remember it ever going.

So, thank you for that. Thank you for being part of our traditions already. Thank you for encouraging us to be so organized and efficient. Thank you for helping us to see our same old decorations in new ways. Thank you for your wonder about the tree, and thank you for not pulling it down yet. Thank you for listening to the Grinch and to all those ornament stories and to the story of the baby Jesus. Thank you for making this the best Black Friday ever.

Love,
Mama

• I had forgotten how quite this city is at 5am. Oh how different tomorrow at this time will be. #

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Dear Atticus,

Before I get into all of this, I need to make sure you know that I am not known for optimism. Every word of this is hard-earned, and I mean it down to my toes.

There is a perpetual discussion about whether it is possible for women to have it all. I pay more attention to this sort of thing now than I used to. I am interested to know whether people think I can have it all. (I also wonder why we don’t ask if men can have it all, but I will save that discussion for another day.) This question is usually answered in the negative: Women cannot have it all, at least not all of the time. Something has to give.

But on this day that is focused on gratitude, I want you to know, Atticus, that I have it all.

I have your dad, who gets up to get you and bring you to me in the middle of the night so that I can get more sleep. He packs lunches, washes bottles, cooks dinner, shops for groceries, and, oh, yeah, does his outside-the-home job, too. He is patient and kind and loves us so well. He has steered us through this past year, because I did not have the energy or emotional reserves to do so on my own.

I have a great job that I enjoy that gives me energy and a sense of purpose. I get to do meaningful work with students and teach them about things that are important to me. They make me laugh, and I learn from them constantly. I get weekends and holidays and summers off to be with my family.

We have a wonderful house that I love in a neighborhood I love. Our hard work has made it our home, and we are rediscovering its quirks and corners with your help. Every room is special to me: mementos and memories everywhere I look. Also, now we have someone come and help with the cleaning.

I have supportive, loving family like your Nana and your Aunt B and your Uncle Joseph. We have the best neighbors in the world. I have amazing friends. We go to a great church.

And now we have you, Atticus. Your smile lights up the room. Your bright eyes are always searching for something else to get into. You are learning at warp speed. You giggle and play with us, and you go on walks with me and listen as I tell you things. When you were born, I called you my little bunny, but now you are my little buddy, my companion.

Having you in our lives has taught me a lot about gratitude. I am thankful for the things we have, the people we have, the life we have. I knew that parenting would be hard work, and, oh, it is. But you are a fun and funny little boy and I am so happy you are part of our lives.

We don’t have endless resources of cash. I wish I had more time to myself, and that there were more hours for sleeping. I am tired, some days soul-exhausted. But I don’t know what it is that people say that I don’t have, because I know the truth: I have everything a girl could want.

Love,
Mama

• Not being at church on a Wednesday evening is weird. Just spent the afternoon with high schoolers though so I got my fix. #thanksgivingeve #

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