Self-pity, anyone?

My Macbook is broken and needs to be fixed. It's going to cost $280. You would think my world is coming to an end.

What is it in me that marches in lock step with the demon of self-pity?

I told my husband, "At least I'm aware of it and I'm aware that these feelings I have are not real." He says, "So a homocidal maniac knows he's a homocidal maniac. Hmm." Wish I thought that was funny. But at least it's honest. Argh.

I have spent much of the day going back and forth about keeping the old one for watching Hulu and Netflix (it works when attached to an external screen because it works fine but the backlight is out so you can't see the screen.) and buying one for my own personal use or just getting it fixed and keeping things as they are. My impulsive decisions in the past have usually been mistakes and so I want to wait to decide either way. I have prayed and failed to control my thoughts, prayed and failed. Over and over and over.

The answer I have received is to wait. If only it wasn't so hard.

At least I remembered to pray first.

For tonight, I think, that little change is going to have to be enough.

Criticism by any other Name

The old story about Indian crabs goes a little like this. There was once a man who passed by a fish market to buy some crabs. There he saw a vendor who had a few baskets of crabs. They were all covered with lids except one. Curious, he went up to the vendor and said, "Why do you cover the baskets?" "Because the crabs will climb out if I don't," the vendor replied. "What about that one?" the man asked, pointing to the one basket that was left uncovered. "Oh, those crabs will never climb out," the man said. "They're Indian crabs. As soon as one tries to climb higher, the rest pull him down. I never have to worry about Indian crabs climbing. Ever."

Sad, but true. Embarrassing, but real.

A very close friend of mine recently posted a happy, cheerful status update about coming out of one's comfort zone and trying something new. The barrage of comments she received were almost all disappointing. "Did you THINK?" one asked. "She probably just got out of bed!" another said. "Did you cook?" another asked. And these are her friends, mind you. In and of themselves, the comments were not accusatory or insulting, but lined up like that made me think of someone kicking a man who is already down.

I have noticed this behavior often in people from the east. My childhood is certainly replete with barbs and arrows coming at my brother who was doing far beyond anyone's imagination in his studies. His only consolations were his scholarships and my parents who stood by him. But the taunts and the insults hurled at someone so hardworking and painstaking in his work were just incredible. He heard things like, "I bet he can't climb a tree!" or "He won't last abroad one week! He's going to come running back. Just watch!"

The comments against my friend, who shall remain unnamed, were certainly not that sharp, but sometimes, it's worse when criticism and harsh words are coated in the veneer of, "But only I can say it because I'm your friend. It's endearing." For one, a curse is a curse is a curse. It does not serve the purpose of bringing people closer to one another or deepening a friendship. If anything, it silences. It cuts short joy, enthusiasm and certainly love. Secondly, the next time the person tries to do something new, he hears those voices. And stops. Another crab who will never climb!

The reason this is so frustrating is because I know I do it, too. This Lent, I'm fasting from name-calling in all forms. Jesus said whoever calls his brother a fool is in danger of hellfire. While fear is not driving me to do this fast, I am driven by the check I feel deep inside me each time I call someone a name. Words have power. Undeniable power. And I give them that power because I am made in God's image. God spoke the world into being. Jesus is referred to as The Word in the gospel of John. Paul exhorts us later in one of the epistles that blessings and curses should not roll off the same tongue. Lent has been extremely difficult this year. Partially because I have realized that it's harder in the company of people I love. It is in the company of people I love the most that I curse the most, am unkindest the most. It is the ones I say I love the most that I don't bless with my mouth.

How sad is that?

My husband completely bowled me over last year when I was complaining about our neighbors. I said something to the effect of, "I don't know why you're so careful around those people. They blast their music and they don't deserve any kindness!" I will never forget what he said. It was like Jesus spoke to me. "Shouldn't we be careful around all human beings? Don't they all deserve kindness?" Yikes.

Perhaps I thrived here in the United States because my husband didn't make fun of me, even to endear me to him. He even used the words, "You're right!" - something I had never before heard addressed to me. I drank deep from his encouragement in those first few months. I used to think, "If you can't think of anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" was silly advice, but now I think otherwise. There are times when there is a need for righteous anger, but clearly, it's not as often as we think.

A Simpler Life

I want a simpler life. The thought has been bothering me lately, burrowing itself deeper into my mind, eating away at the last of my desires for bigger, brighter, shinier things. Somehow, I have bought into the idea that if a little satisfies, more will fill me up. And I'm learning that perhaps a little is all I need. A little nourishes; more overflows and overwhelms.

I want to learn to be satisfied with little.

I want to hold close to my heart the only things that matter, the things money cannot buy - satisfaction at a house cleaned well, a day lived within the family budget with three healthy meals, children who say "Thank you" on their own when you put food in front of them,  a husband who would readily give up his Sunday morning to go with me to church because he knows it's important to me. I want to live in the simplicity of gratitude, untouched by worldly desires.

I'm not there yet.

But the desire has taken seed and something else inside me has been uprooted. The crown of this world does not fit as well any more. I am filled with a holy discontent and that is a good thing, I think.

Breathing Space

The past few weeks have been emotionally difficult. My dad has been over to visit and help with the arrival of the new baby and the baby seems to be taking his own sweet time coming. Perhaps because my dad is here and I'm having a hard time relaxing. My blood pressure has shot up and I would imagine oxytocin is in short supply in my system right now.

Now don't misunderstand. I don't mean to be ungrateful. I'm very grateful that my dad is here all the way from India to help, but it's been almost a decade since I left what used to be home and being around him 24 - 7 is kind of getting on my nerves. He's easy enough to get along with but he has some personality quirks that absolutely drive me crazy. Like he won't speak in English even though he can when James is around so I have to translate or my husband feels left out. Not to mention it's just rude. The cultural gap is hard to bridge. I can tell he's a little on edge when James is around and that irritates me too. I mean, jeez... we've been married for almost eight years now. Also, he calls me by my mom's name by mistake. A lot. AND he never leaves the house. Even for a walk. And we have the same conversations every single day. Ugh. "Sleep well?" "You're going to have coffee now?" "How are you feeling?" I want to scream "I'M PREGNANT, NOT AN INVALID. I'M NOT SICK!!!" Not to mention the house is usually quiet - we're quiet people - and any sound is magnified. So intimacy of any kind with James becomes uncomfortable. Not that I'm looking forward to any of it being 3 days away from my due date. But still... I wish I didn't have to worry about anything I said, much less did, with James.

Yes, a bit of a rant. But you see where I'm coming from now. Part of me is beginning to think it was a mistake to ask for help. It's been more than a month now and I can't wait for everything to be normal again. Really, I don't know how other families have house guests for this long.

The family dynamic sucks too. Bombie is getting pampered and our time-outs are not working as well, partially because he comes in and rescues her before we have a chance to give her a time-out. So she doesn't learn. He carries her around a lot, so she's getting dependent. You know, everyone said that the reason I didn't walk until much later is because I was an overweight child. I'm beginning to think being carried around had a lot to do with it. He won't let her fall, he worries all the time when she's climbing up and down, he keeps saying things like, "Walk, don't run..." Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!

Well, three more weeks. That's it. I advanced his ticket and he's leaving on the 4th. We'll just deal with everything by ourselves later. Those were James' words of wisdom yesterday and I think he's right. If this was a permanent situation we'd have to lay down some strict rules. But chances are he's not going to see Bombie again for a long time so he can pamper her all he wants. She's only 16 months, so she won't remember much. And we can deal with the new family dynamic after the fourth of next month.

Until then I only have to stay sane and deliver this new baby. And never ever forget that the more security, the lesser the freedom. I have never known that in a more real manner than I do now.

What Blog is This?

I just made a few changes to the HTML heading of this blog and also instructed Google not to crawl it. OMG. It seems to be going against the grain of everything I've been trying to do since I first got into blogging, but I think it's better this way. That way this blog remains one of the last places on the internet I can remain "invisible" or "hidden" while still writing for the sheer joy of it. I'm leaving this blog out of the commercial space I write other blogs in. So there.

I feel better now...

Also, I'm not going to restrict myself to writing only about babies and diapers in the hope that someday my limited SEO will pan out and a small (but huge, so huge) piece of the four million inquiries of "babies" Google receives daily (!) will be directed to my website. Ho-hum. I'm doing that on my other blogs and frankly can't care less about starting another one.

So, if you're a reader, welcome. This is now my cozy space and best of all it's private. Yay!