unrelenting cuteness April 30, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm.6 comments
Kiddo#2 managed to keep Kiddo#4 quiet for me this morning. While she did this, I was able to upload pictures to my computer, upload those to shutterfly, order pictures, and then put in a load of laundry.
How did she keep him quiet? By doing this:
Everyone, I want a collective “AWW!” because they’re just so cute together, when you consider the tiny bare piggies on K4 and the way K2 is singing in a voice audible only to whales and dolphins.
uncomfortable thought April 30, 2008
Posted by philangelus in pensive, religion.10 comments
One of my online forums encourages members to post prayer requests. In recent days, there’s been a thread asking prayers for a little girl who got enticed into a neighbor’s house for several hours. Without giving too many details, when she was retrieved from the house, the male of the household was high on multiple controlled or illegal substances, and subsequent tests revealed the girl had been molested.
The girl needs prayers, as do the other children found at the house, as do the parents. At some point while reading through that thread, I realized, the perpetrator needs prayers too.
And then my uncomfortable thought: God loves that man.
That man who lured a little girl into his house and subjected her to degrading and horrible activities, that man who was neglecting his own kids while he attended to his own lust and his own need to feel more powerful than someone, is loved by God.
As a human being, I want to say the perpetrator needs to be flayed alive. But God loves him. Of course the man should be locked in jail and never allowed near a child again, and he should “pay his debt to society” by whatever means the legal system demands. I’m not even hinting that what he did was right, or that we should let criminals off the hook. I’m just saying the unfathomable: that he’s loved by God.
You’ll respond, “It’s easy for you to think that: it’s not your daughter.” You’re right. If it were my daughter, I’d be wanting to kill that man myself. My emotions wouldn’t negate God’s, though.
It’s also humbling to think that in God’s eyes, my sin is the same as this man’s sin. All sin is offensive and mars our souls. God loves me anyhow. God loves this guy, much as what he did was monstrous and and as much as I want to say he deserves to rot in hell.
I do believe no one is beyond redemption while still alive, and of course the man’s soul is not in a good way right now. It’s easy to imagine God loving this man if he were to repent and try to make amends with the little girl and her family (from the distance of his jail cell — that’s a very important part of this whole equation, the civil and legal penalties).
On the other hand, it’s very uncomfortable for me to consider that whole “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” angle, that God loves this man now, wants him to come home now, is saddened by the separation of this man’s soul from him now, before he’s repented and before he’s shown any signs of remorse.
Please pray for the little girl and her family. If you’re a better person than I am, you might be able to pray for the man who victimized her.
Annihilation: chapters 16 and 17 April 29, 2008
Posted by philangelus in Seven Archangels: Annihilation, writing.1 comment so far
MindFlights has posted chapter seventeen of my novel Seven Archangels: Annihilation. Yesterday I also got word that it’s been reviewed again, and it’s even a nice review, but I haven’t had the courage yet to go look at it. 
If you check it out, let me know if I should curl in the corner sobbing. (more…)
It happened: I’m disgusting! April 28, 2008
Posted by philangelus in family, kiddos, why have three kids?.20 comments
I was at BJs with Kiddo#3 in a car-cart and Kiddo#4 in the sling. Everyone loves K4 when he’s in a sling. There’s just his head showing, and his cuteness is so awesome that he pulls small objects into his orbit.
The employees at BJs know my kids and me by sight because (I’m told) my kids may be the only ones in Angeltown who say “thank you” when they receive a free sample. Therefore, the arrival of K4 has been a cause for smiles among the employees.
Except for one, who looked at me with an expression approaching disgust and said, “You have ANOTHER one?”
Last week, I got the same question and responded by looking at the baby and shrieking in surprise, “Where the heck did that come from?” (By the way, the most frequent comment I’ve gotten has been folks pointing to Kiddo#3 and saying, “I remember when you had him!”) But this time, I merely said, cheerfully, yes.
She said, “Another boy?”
I agreed. She said, “Two boys?”
I said, “Three boys. And one girl.”
That’s when she couldn’t help it any longer, and the barely-suppressed disgust overtook her.
In some people’s world, it’s acceptable to have a third child…and maybe even a fourth, maybe…only if you’re looking for that magical child of the opposite gender. But here I had admitted to spawning unnecessarily.
I made no response to her look. Finally she said, “oh,” as if I’d said something unbelievably rude and shameful, only I was too stupid to understand what I’d done.
I took revenge on her the best way possible: by smiling at her and going on my way.
Because guess what? I did not ask the BJs employee for permission to have another child. She may not approve, but she’s also not responsible for raising this child. She will never pay one dime toward his support nor lie awake one minute worrying about him. At the same time, I promise never to share the joy of watching this little guy smile, or playing with his “petit-ie feeties” or teaching him it’s fun to receive a smooch. She won’t ever see him burst in the door from the school bus exclaiming that he got a hundred on his spelling test or see him stomp up the walkway and slam the front door, smoldering about the way the teacher scolded him. She won’t have to buy him shoes and wonder where those tiny feet went so quickly, or repair jeans with holes in the knees, or swallow a wave of nausea when he comes in telling me bugs don’t taste good.
For the most part, there’s been delight at the arrival of Kiddo#4. The inevitable “He’s so cute,” and a few surprising admissions of “I wish I could have another one.” There have been people telling us we’re brave (no, he’s not that frightening; it was more frightening to start having kids than to keep having them) and people telling us we’re blessed (which we are) and people who only want to look and admire. There are guesses of which of us he looks like and people telling me “He’s so big!” and “He’s so tiny!” and endless questions about whether he keeps me up at night (Not as much as Kiddo#3 has been, to tell you the truth.)
This was the first disgust, and it surprised me. I can advocate making different choices. It makes sense that others might be confused at our family size. I can understand moral superiority if she thought she was saving the world by not creating another human to use resources. I knew we might get nasty comments along the lines of “Don’t you know what causes that?” (yes, we do, thanks for asking) but why the hatred of something I’ve freely chosen?
This is the wrong place to speculate, I suppose. Individuals who are profoundly disgusted by the concept of having four children wouldn’t read a weblog called “Seven angels, four kids, one family.” But I can’t help but wonder what incident or what unresolved hurt created her visceral revulsion against a mom with four kids and her three-week-old baby.
Meme: seven songs I’m listening to right now April 26, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm.3 comments
I got tagged for a meme!
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your weblog along with your 7 songs.
Disclaimer: I’m completely random in my songs nowadays, and it’s kind of hard to pick, but here goes.
1) Beethoven’s violin concerto, third movement. I tend to make up my own words for this.
2) Smooth, by Rob Thomas and Santana
3) Little Wonders, by Rob Thomas
4) Heart To Heart by Kenny Loggins
5) Mr. Rabbit, Music Together version. This is embarrassing, but you see, it’s so easy to plug in your own words to this one, so I end up singing, “Mr. Kiddo, Mr. Kiddo, you’re being small and cute” {or whatever} and then continue with, “Yes, my mom, I’m being small and cute. Every little boy must whine-whine-whine. Every little boy must whine-whine-whine.” I can do this for half an hour at a shot when necessary.
6) Lead Me On by Amy Grant
7) anything by Rich Mullins. Anything at all. He makes me feel better. I’m still sad that he died.
I’m supposed to tag people, but instead of tagging, I’ll just invite anyone to join in who wants to. Right now Kiddo#4 is still awake with tummy pain/reflux, it’s 11pm, and I’m exhausted while my Patient Husband rocks the child and tries to get him to sleep. *yawn*
what I found in the photos April 25, 2008
Posted by philangelus in family, kiddos.1 comment so far
When I went ahead and printed six months’ worth of photos, I kept thinking, “I need to put that on the weblog.” We’ll see how many of those actually make it on here.
At the same time (serendipity again) someone on an online forum asked about embarrassing baby photos, and I said I didn’t think I had any, but I got out my childhood photo album and took a look just to make sure.
First, I was right. My mom has all the embarrassing photos of me as a tot. (Reminder to self: bring flamethrower to Mom’s next time.)
Second, Kiddo#3? Looks a lot like my brother at the same age. I was honestly shocked. Then, as we moved forward through time, there were photos of my brother at the same age as Kiddo#1, and again, the resemblance was stunning. If I can ever conquer the scanner, I might post a couple of examples.
I always knew the boys looked a lot like their father. It’s very often remarked how Kiddo#2 and my same-age niece look like twins. For some reason, it never occurred to me until I was looking at my four-year-old son twenty-eight years in the past just how much they also resembled my brother. I guess I wasn’t listening all those times when I accidentally called K1 by my brother’s name.
Third thing: at one point, Kiddo#3 recognized my prom picture as me. (Yes, despite the eighties hair, he figured it out.) And when I said yes, it was me, he looked at the other pictures on the same page, and he querulously pointed to another one, in which I was eight. He ventured, “Is that you too?”
When I said yes, he looked very concerned. “Why are you being a little girl?”
Gee, kid, because that’s how we all start out.
This really disturbed him as he tried to knead it into his understanding of the world. He knew that someday he’d be “tall like Daddy” and “go to work like Daddy” and so on. Kids becoming adults was just dandy in his mind. But the idea that adults were once kids inverted the whole world.
That photo thing (or, why I’m a rotten mom) April 24, 2008
Posted by philangelus in family, kiddos, sarcasm.12 comments
I used to be organized. Then my father did us a favor and bought us a digital camera.
See, I had a system. I’d take pictures, drop off the film someday, and when they came back, I’d label the back with who was in the picture, when and where it was taken. Then I’d put the photos in an album and mail off the duplicates.
After the arrival of Kiddo#2, my father gave us this awesome digital camera (and it is — it’s a little workhorse; the only time it’s failed on me was the time of the Ghost Photo incident) and you don’t need to develop those pictures. You just put them on your computer and print them at your leisure.
You see the problem there, right?
Keep going for some laughter at my expense
If Obstetricians Ran The Cable Company April 23, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm.1 comment so far
This originally ran in The Compleat Mother in 2004 (I think.) They never put it online, so I’m going to do it.
By the way, in case you haven’t noticed it yet after 218 weblog entries, I tend to have strong opinions and I’m just a trifle sarcastic. Really!
–
If Obstetricians Ran The Cable Company
“UnicableSystem, may I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to sign up for basic cable.”
“Certainly, sir. That will be $79.95 a month. That includes the local networks, the first tier of cable channels, and all the premium channels, including five versions of HBO, Starz, eight foreign language movie channels…”
“But I don’t want the premium channels. I just want basic cable.”
“Sir, it is our experience that someday you may want to watch a premium channel, so we bundle everything together.”
“But I don’t speak any foreign languages, so giving me movies in French or Russian –”
“You may learn those languages someday. Trust us on this.”
“But eighty dollars a month is quite a lot.”
“It’s worth it to have the peace of mind from knowing you have the very best entertainment.”
“I guess so. When can you turn it on?”
“First we’ll have to send a technician out to your house to install a cable box and test your television. If your television meets all our requirements, then we’ll get you started on your programming.”
“And if there’s something wrong with my television, can you fix it?”
“No, most of the time we can’t. We can, however, wish you better luck in buying a new television. We’ll come to your house about every month or so to make sure that your television is still up to our standards. We’ll also make sure that your furniture meets our requirements.”
“My furniture?”
“Yes, sir. If you’re literally on the edge of your seat watching an exciting sports competition, we don’t want to risk that you’ll fall off the edge.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?”
“A layman may think so, but it could happen, and we want to be prepared. We will also install mattresses around the viewing area to cushion you should you fall over.”
“What if I just lie on the floor to watch television?”
“What? That’s such an unnatural viewing position! Plus, it makes it difficult for our technicians to make sure you’re watching correctly.”
“Your technicians watch me watching television?”
“Well naturally! How else could we make sure you’re not sitting so close to the television that you’ll ruin your eyeballs?”
“That’s really not –”
“Of course, that’s not so much of a problem any longer, now that we’re mounting the televisions on the ceilings.”
“You’re going to bolt my television to the ceiling?”
“We’ve found it prevents unnecessary channel changes.”
“You know, I don’t think I like all of these precautions.”
“You would think of jeopardizing your entertainment?”
“You’re taking all the enjoyment out of watching television!”
“And you, sir, are running unnecessary risks if you don’t do everything we say! We are entertainment professionals, and we know everything that can happen. It’s people like you who make our industry so difficult. Television is not meant to be enjoyed — it’s just something to get through.”
“It’s not supposed to be enjoyed?”
“Quit thinking of television as anything more than a means to an end. In fact, our most satisfied customers have requested the all-in-one cable package, in which we have them come to our facility, where we anesthetize them and then play an entire feature on HBO, shutting it off before they awaken. It’s really for the best that way–they know they cannot possibly view anything which might offend them.”
“But there are things we can do so that we’re not offended by what we watch. We can change channels, or read reviews–”
“Entirely too much work, sir. Now, you do understand that you’ll have to keep the television off for 23 hours a day.”
“What? Eighty dollars a month and I can’t even watch it?”
“You’d risk burning out your television set if you watched whenever you wanted. The average person watches one hour of television a day. That’s why we’ll make sure you watch exactly sixty minutes of television every day–no more, no less. So, when do you want to schedule your installation and be fitted for your anti-radiation goggles?”
“Forget it. I think I’m going to head to the library instead.” *click*
“Talk about backward. If he gets eye-strain, he deserves it, the wacko.”
The Null State April 22, 2008
Posted by philangelus in writing.7 comments
“Dear Writer:
You stink. Your writing stinks. Go take a bath. You’ll never publish again.
-The Editors”
Did you ever get a rejection letter like the above? I have!
Well, actually, no, it wasn’t written in exactly those words. It was more like this:
“Dear Author: Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, it does not meet our needs at this time.”
But I know they really hated it, and their words crushed my dreams and destroyed my future.
Um, again, actually, no. They didn’t destroy my dreams, and rejection isn’t really a loss, no matter how it feels.
Firstly, an editor can’t destroy my dreams. They’re my dreams. They’re God’s plans for me. No editor is that powerful. (I apologize to any editors who may be reading this, but it’s true.) I didn’t send my dreams or God’s plans to the editor: I sent a manuscript.
Secondly, rejection is not a loss except of potential. The “null state” of a manuscript — that is to say, the default or ordinary state — is “not published”. It gets written, and without any input of energy, it sits.
When you put energy into a manuscript, it becomes a submission, flying out to an editor for consideration. (We could argue that the null state of a submission is to sit on an editor’s desk, but that’s too involved for such a short weblog entry.) If the editor accepts it, the submission is transformed into published work.
If the editor rejects it, the manuscript simply returns to the null state. In other words, it’s no worse off than before. It wasn’t being published then, and it’s not being published now.
No destroyed dreams, no actual loss. At worst you’ve inconvenienced your mailman or some electrons, but you can give the mailman chocolate at Christmas.
I used to live in the Null State, but it wasn’t very exciting. That’s why, in 2004, I got tired of being a failed writer and started submitting again. It takes more energy, but it’s something I highly encourage.
How to make an angel laugh April 21, 2008
Posted by philangelus in angels, kiddos.8 comments
This happened about three years ago.
Kiddo#2 came into my bedroom where I was folding laundry and asked what I was doing. “Nothing,” I said. She asked what I had stepped on (huh?) and I said nothing again.
She asked, “What does your guardian angel do?”
I replied, “Lots of things.”
For reference, this is the same Kiddo who came to me one day when she was three, and out of the blue, said to me, “Mommy? Are guardian angels nice? Or do they be rude?” To which I replied, “Angels are always polite.” And then, very very cautiously, I said, “Sweetie, why do you want to know?” But she didn’t reply with, “Well, I wanted to know if I can go talk to that one over there” so all was well. Chalk it up to childhood curiosity (which is also the category where the next conversation should be chalked up.)
She said, “Does he do macaroni and cheese?”
No, I replied, he probably has never done macaroni and cheese. (If he has, then I need to seriously reconsider my understanding of Heaven, but I digress.)
Then she said, “Does he do the macaroni and cheese dance?”
The macaroni and cheese dance?
“Yes,” she said giggling.
I said no, he probably had never done that either.
Then Kiddo#2 proceeded to do a dance right there in my bedroom, waving her arms and pivoting in place, smirking but at the same time being completely serious about her sweeping gestures and four-year-old version of gracefulness. She confirmed for me that yes indeed, this was the macaroni and cheese dance.
I managed to hold it together enough to say, “Well, now that he’s seen it, he knows how to do it, so he can add it to the list of things he can consider doing.”
And when I said that, I felt this tension high up in my throat and shoulders, and I knew my guardian angel was laughing.
I post this so that now you too can add something to the list of things you can consider doing: if you ever want to make an angel laugh, ask him if he can do the macaroni and cheese dance. If necessary, demonstrate.
