"Every Man Must Tell His Own Story"

I have been reading a lot, here lately, about writing. I haven't done any real serious writing lately with the exclusion of research compilation about Barack Obama, and more research about feminism. But, honestly, to me and through me, that is not real writing. The real stuff for me is that which creates humanity. Why we are the way we are.

About four years ago, I read a print-out of a chapter from an author that a professor told me fit my writing style. This was the first professor that encouraged me, nay, the first person, that encouraged me in my writing; made me believe that my writing was more than a hobby or a waste of time. The print-out was from the book, "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott. I LOVED the chapter and wrote it down in my notebook as a book that someday I'd like to read through. Well, recently I came across it in a book store and impulsively bought it. (Yes, I do this often. I really shouldn't be left unsupervised.)

In the book Lamott talks about the importance of short assignments and the importance of "getting it down." This was something that the previously mentioned professor preached incessantly. And, from that class, I began to write about life. My life and my observations of the lives around me. At the end of that class and the end of that stretch of my academic career I put all those pages and pages (I admit I had a lot to say) into two large 3 ring binders (I had a LOT to say and I'm a fast typer).

After finishing Lamott's book, I remembered the feeling that comes from being completely caught up in a moment; otherworldly. I may post a paper I wrote about my personal writing experience someday. I no longer, not to say it won't come back, have the hunger for publication that I once had. In it's space has been left a desire to write down my story. Pieces of that story may end up here, but this blog and the story I write for my children and for those I love. I believe in the importance of our history and it's ability to make strong the future of those who study it.

Greenwoods at Home

First Trip to the Emergency Room

Just to let peoples know so that you all can pray for Abby...

We had to take Abby to the emergency room last night. She fell down into a window well and broke the window at the bottom of it, receiving a couple of bad gashes on her head that required staples. While it bled a lot when it first happened (yes, scary beyond all belief) the staples all stayed in and there was no blood over night. She seems alright now, although can't sleep on that side of her head.

I just ask that you all pray for Abby and the healing. We'll be going in on Friday to get the staples removed. It's going to be a long week, spent primarily indoors. :(

If Chivalry is Dead, Women Killed It

I've started walking twice a week with my sister-in-law, Kelly, and this past Tuesday we walked along the trail by the park in the middle of our subdivision. As we were walking, two "men" came down the hill next to the path and started walking towards us. Both of them filled the path and refused to yeild, leaving no room for us on the path, forcing us off the path and into the grass. These "men" were both at least 25 years old and possibly older.

Personally, I think that is unacceptable. You may say, well, gone are the days of laying the coat down over the mud puddle, Sarah. You've gotta get with the times. Well, excuse me, but no. I refuse. I expect to be treated as I am...a lady. And, furthermore, I expect real men to do this and even farther to KNOW to do this.

I believe that is the responsibility of the parents to see that their sons are raised up to cherish and respect women. You may say, but Sarah, you don't have any sons. You don't know the difficulty of raising sons. This is true. I do not. But, I do have a husband who respects and cherishes me and in so doing is mirroring the kind of qualities that my daughters will respond to in the men that God is preparing for them.

All that said, I'm doing some "slight" research(for those who know me, this is my way of saying I'm going completely overboard :) ) on the topic of "The Emasculation of the American Male by Feminist Thought and Theory." Whoa. Yeah, I know. Don't let the title scare you away, but look for this within the next month or so. :)

Middle of the Night

I've often gotten up and sleep written or sleep typed. I know weird. But, if you think about it, I'm sure there are things that you do or can do in your sleep. The below passage is before editing and again in the middle of the night. I just thought you'd be curious. There is just one long passage, so bear through to the end. It may have one or two redeeming lines. :)


There are times when I have read great pieces of writing and I wonder if I too will ever realy write again. Will I ever again be so totally immersed in my writing and my “style” that it will just flow when I sit down...the gift. I remember the first time that I actually considered myself a writer...the first time I almost did something insanely stupid like calling myself a writer in front of a great writer who had actually published several books...Salman Rushdie. Argh...i could still die just thinking about it. I remember the first time I saw one of my poems in print in a small magazine with an even smaller readership. But, it was my poem. One that had fflowed from my pencil and worked its way into my notebook. Not too often now do I even write in my notebook. The feeling hits me and I think I should write this down...this snippet of a thought that I just had before it floats away and it is no more. Its it vanity that I want to publish a book...is it selfish that I want to spend time writing..that someday I want to have an awesome office filled floor to scealing with lovely smelly books...ancient books at times that are sprawled open across my desk with great gouging underlining thorughout the whole of them. I want to be immersed in that lifesctyle, because I really do feel that is a callnng of mine. Really. A god given calling/gift. I do believe that this ifs of God. Someday. I know that now I have answered another calling in being a motherhood and truly for me even with the writing, there is no greater alling that I can receive. Truly. I love the sound of the keyoboard and the sound of the pencil cscritching away at the paper. I love the sound of ripping notebook paper and crossing out of great passages that perhaps could be reworked or shifted or should just be tossed away into the sea of all those other bad ideas. Sometimes I like to think that my bad ideas rub up against the toerh bad idea of some great writers and occasionally those really sucky ideas get transformed into not so sucky and drift back up on the beach where i'm sitting and wash back across my toes and land in my lap. A true argument for the importance of reading in life. Writing is truly what I have always wanted to do...that and read. If I could have found a job in which all I had to do was write and read I would have been extremely happy and well-preserved....some of my greatest memories of that time in my life are of working with the froshies and exing out things and shuffling sentences, drawingn arrosws and smiley faces. I always used colored pens....my favorite was this great fine point green ink pen I wish I still had several of those. I remember making notes with it in my coppy of Mrs. Dalloway. I would buy new pens every year at the beginning of a new term. That would be my school pen. I wonder if I was just trying out new pens until I got the one that was the right groove for me. I think that perhaps that green pen was. I had a teacher that I absolutely loved that wrote everything in red colored pencil. All of her corrections. I suppose she thought that it was less harsh than with a red pen. I always tried to be less harsh in my critiques, perhaps with the green ink and I would always leave smiley faces and question marks becauase I never wanted to seem ast hough my tone was harsh in any way or as if I had the last word on the subject. Or even that I had a certain infalibility about me. Heaven knows that I don't. I've been making an effort to read more consistently and one thating that reading consistently does for me is hand in hand it also forces me tow rite. I always have something to say about whateer i'm reading. I scan't just pass it one and say, we'll I 've read that...that was a nice bbook. no. I want to stop and think about what I got from that book...what was the reason that I read that book that that book was placed in my lap or across my path. I certainly have written a lot of shitty stuff about what i've read, but hidden in that crap is some good lines and also some good passages that I could run with..sand perhaps someday, after I have finished or at least shifted in my “highest” calling I will gather up all of my scraps, notebooks and files and just really write again and be immersed in the gift that God has given me. I don't think it's wrong in calling it a gift either...i don't feel that I am ebing pompous in that. I call it a gift because writing is what has seaved my life over and over, it has brought me sanity and salvation, struly. It is God's gift to me and the small measure of talent that he has place d in my hands I will someday use and I hope that it brings Glory where it is due. It is that one thing that I feel I can really give from my soul, a gift that someday I will lay at His feet.

Staying Home

I was reading a post recently about a situation that from time to time I too find myself in. I am in conversation with a woman who works outside the home and they then say something along the lines of how lucky I am to be able to stay at home with my children. Usually when this comes up, I say something about yes, I'm very blessed to have a husband who allows me to stay at home. I suppose that most people think when I say this is that it is Aaron's job and the money he brings home that has allowed me to stay at home, but this is simply not the case.

Before Aaron and I were married we talked about the various roles that are required of people in marriage and talked about the roles of mother and father at great length. We both agreed that the roles of man and woman are clearly laid out in the Bible and that it was God's plan for our family that I stay home with whatever children would come, if God so chose to bless us. When we were courting I worked in a lower management position at Target. That is certainly not much money, but if I had kept on there, I possibly would have been bringing home between 25k-30k a year.

Two weeks before Anna was born I quit Target and have been "working" out of my home since. This is my calling, and truly all great paths in life come with God's calling. There have been challenges certainly, but God has promised to always be there for us, to provide for our needs and He has been faithful. Aaron has switched jobs and two more children have been added to our family, but the added blessings that I receive daily have more than made up for any slight sacrifice.

Potty-Training

Argh!! I am having difficulties getting this to work. Anna is extremely stubborn. She will potty in anything that remotely feels like a diaper; so we decided to forgo the pullups and just do underpants. She will hold it in for long periods of time, refusing to go on the toilet. This morning she held it for FOUR HOURS and then went on my kitchen floor. ARRRGGHHH!!

I know that it is just more difficult right now because she is my first one, but geez-louise already. We've tried chocolate, stickers and a slew of other things. Any helpful hints would be appreciated.

The Artist in the Family

I honestly married in to a ridiculously talented family. My mother-in-law is immersed in the textile arts. My father-in-law draws and is musically gifted.

All of their children have inherited some level of these talents, but their youngest child and only daughter is perhaps the most talented of the children who draw. She's the artist who did these portraits of my daughters and has done various family and friends of ours. She's currently working toward her cosmetology degree, and is trying to get a little extra money to finish out there. Anyway, if you know anyone who would enjoy a drawing or if you yourself would like one, leave me a comment and I'll get you in touch with her. These make incredible gifts for parents and grandparents.

Some Nicknames

We have nicknames/phrases for each of our children. Here recently Anna has sort of latched on to one of hers. Here's the "list." :)

For our oldest, Anna:

• Anna Kat (for Anna Katherine)
• Anna Banana
• Anna Kat, Where are you at?

For the middle girl, Abby:

• Abby Crabby
• Abigail Maria, it's so good to see 'ya!

For our youngest, Charlotte:

• Charlotte Grace, what a beautiful face!

The is also the names that they all get called, stinker butt, pumpkin head, silly goose, cookie...(That one has caused a bit of a problem once they figure out what cookies are. They hear cookie and it's "likea, likea cookie!") I imagine that we'll end up having more the older the girls get. The one that Anna has sort of claimed is "Anna Kat." We've always said, "Hey, beautiful girl. What cha doing?" and Anna now replies, "I'm not a girl! I'm Anna Kat!"

Aaron and I aren't really the terms of endearment types. We don't say Honey, Dear, Sweetheart or any of those. But, since our courtship days, we've always said, "You're my favorite."

Do any of you have nicknames or terms of endearment that you use in your house?

Family Driven Faith by Voddie Baucham

I just finished this book and am recommending it to everyone. Aaron is actually reading it right now. The subtitle is "Doing what it takes to raise sons and daughters who walk with God." I think that as Christian parents we naturally worry about what we need to do to raise our children to become godly young men and women. We worry about teaching them through our own personal walk while teaching them to have their own. Anyway, just a little blurb today about a book that really made in impact on me and one that has encouraged conversation between Aaron and I about how we need to shape our home to bring honor and glory to Him.

Hopefully, you'll go out and get this book. It's one that you should definitely buy and pass on to your friends. :)

School

As I have been gathering items together for Anna's preschool curriculum, I have been thinking back to my own schooling, really my college years. Some who are close to me know that I am something ridiculous like nine credits away from graduating with a B.A. in English from Butler University here in Indianapolis. Yet, with babies coming so quickly together and the horrible morning sickness I experienced with Anna, I wasn't able to finish when I would have liked.

But, this week I am doing the necessary prelimanary paperwork in order to transfer to IUPUI because of the expense of Butler; requesting transcripts and transfer admission. I don't know yet if I will be taking classes during the spring semester or next summer or even fall of 2009, but taking these first steps toward that are something that is both incredibly exciting and frightening.

Just had to share with "someone", even if no one else reads it. :)

The Notebooks

There was a cabinet built into the dresser that my mother kept in her room. In this cabinet were kept various picture albums and baby books that chronicled her life as well as the lives of each of her five children. Also in this cabinet were notebooks that my mother kept throughout her adolescence and her early years of motherhood. In this books were columns she had written for her school newspaper, poems that she had written and also poetry from well known writers that she had particularly cherished.

Often when I would find myself alone I would sneak to my mother's room and open that cabinet and read her notebooks. In those notebooks I found a soul that I did not recognize, someone separate from my mother and yet secretly defining her. I found someone who had some of the same dreams that I did and experienced the same desires.

Growing up, I used to think that she didn't understand my need to write...that she didn't support my dream. But, looking back, I remember sadness when she thought that I wouldn't reach it; as if in some way she was losing sight of her own dream once again.

I have one particular memory of my mother asking all of us once what we would take from the house when she died. I remember very much the pain that crossed her face after each of us, thinking, for she wasn't going to die, what a horrible question, told her there was nothing we wanted. I think she wanted to know that we wanted a piece of her that we would carry away with us into our own homes.

Until recently, I still thought of my mother as completely different from me; as being driven by amazingly different forces than I had been. Yet, as I think of her notebooks, I am reminded of my own notebooks that I hope someday will go to one of my children, and I realize that I want them to want them, just as much as my mother wanted me to want her notebooks.

The Problem

I have a problem...well...an addiction really. I've never really been able to resist this temptation on my own. It has several names but always takes the same form. When I get close to it, my mouth becomes dry and my hands sweaty. I'm sure that if I were able to look in a mirror, my face would have gone pale and my eyes perhaps dilated. It has the most wonderous smell and the most delightful sound. What is it, you ask? Has our friend, Sarah, succumbed to some drug? Well, perhaps to you it would not be a drug, but to me it has always been mind-altering and character changing. Simply put, a bookstore.

Twice this weekend, I found myself with various peoples at two Border's locations. Each time, I tried to be good and stay at the front of the store and simply scowl at the horrid YA fiction, but I slowly wound my way to the Children's section where my hands suddenly found themselves full of the crisp new stuff of gods. I am a-feared that I have passed my addiction on to my children. They are more excited about new books than new toys. Yes!!

Worse, perhaps was that I completely lost sight of all those who were in my group. Then, like one suffering from tunnel vision, I found myself suddenly with a volume of Sylvia Plath poetry in my hands and thumbing through a little Yeats and marveling over a new Salmon Rushdie novel. Twice, one of my party tried to draw me back to the land of the living before I could resurface. Finally, as I wound my way to the front of the store, I found everyone waiting for me. A blush falls over my face and I mumble an apology, and yet I already know that it would happen again the next time. OOHHH, the next time!! I can hardly wait!

Nursing the Babe

I thought today I would post about our forrays into the nursing lifestyle as we wind up our third term. Lifestyle, you say? Yes, lifestyle. I do believe that there is no more debate that can heat up so quickly than how we chose to feed our children. And no more immersed lifestyle than the nursing mother. I mean, think about it. On average, the nursing mother will spend at least 1/4 of her day, six hours, with babe at breast. This is more time than most people spend doing any other one thing throughout their day.

I do not believe that I fall into the same group with most breastfeeding mothers. I had a very difficult time nursing my first child. Which, I suppose, is only natural, having never done it before, but "they" tell you that it is so natural and that if you're doing it properly you should have no discomfort. Bah! I spent a great deal of time with the lactation consultants after each of my babies were born and there was nothing that I was doing incorrectly, however, I still spent the first 8-12 weeks in white-knuckle pain.

Consequently, I decided after Anna that six months of nursing was it. I felt that it was necessary for her and subsequent children to at least get that much from me, because I firmly believe that it is the best possible start for children. I have gotten flack for that from several of the super-breastfeeding mommies, who quickly agree with WHO and nurse their babies until two or longer. I say yeah for them that they can go that long, but for me this is what works.

Another strike against me with the super-nursers is that I am a scheduled feeder. I do not believe in feeding on demand, even in the first six weeks of life. My reason for this, is that with Anna I tried feeding on demand during her first two weeks, and all I got for it was a baby that nursed for almost an hour on each breast, leaving me bloody, literally, and not because of an improper latch. She also would want to nip-nurse. Here a nip, there a nip...whenever she felt like it. Anyway, when we went to a schedule...nursing for 15 minutes on each side with two hours in between feedings from beginning to beginning. There was no more blood, or real engorgement because we were more regulated and she was no longer a lazy nurser because she knew that when we nursed was when she nursed.

I've gotten a few comments recently stating my babies were probably malnourished because I didn't feed on demand. So this is probably more of a vent post than normal, but hey, gotta have an outlet. Some people talk their stuff out, I blog it out. :)

Well, all that to say we're completing another round of nursing and are almost weaned. Yeah for us! Somedays it felt like she would be small and breastfeeding forever, but here we are, the big six month old, almost sitting on her own and ever so chubbsy. She's growing up so fast, and it's so hard to believe that next summer, she'll be where Abby is now, running around and singing. I'm glad we made it to this point and I'm very glad we're almost done. :)

Comical Post

After posting the other comic, I thought about this one and our recent addition to our backyard of a sandbox. To all those who have daughters who love to play in the sandbox, yet hate to have their hair washed, I dedicate this post to you. :)

Three of Them

My sister, Amy, sent this to me shortly after Charlotte was born, and I put it away in her file with a chuckle. Recently I came across it again and thought about how true it is. Charlotte is just now starting to sit for moments at a time on her own. There are more children than I have hands, there are more children than there are adults and I am loathe to take them out into the world all at the same time without having them contained in, say, a shopping cart. I've had to decline numerous invites to people who've invited us to parks and out to the zoo, because I simply cannot do it yet. Anna is certainly rounding the corner of the terrible twos and coming to be quite helpful, but we're not quite ready to be accepting tea-time invitations just yet.

Charlotte is moving up in the baby world, but also is making more work for the mommy-person in the protection department. Abby has taken it upon herself to put Charlotte back into her "natural" position; which is, of course, flat on her back. First this happened when Charlotte began rolling over a few weeks ago. Charlotte would be happily shaking her hands and feet practising the tummy moves when Abby would notice that she had moved away from her spot. Abby would come running over saying, "Uh-Oh!", then flip Charlotte back over onto her back and say, "All better." I think this is her way of being the "little mother" of the house. She cleans and pretends to cook and takes care of her babies. I suppose that we just have to get through to her that toss Charlotte about is not a very nice thing for a mommy to do. :)

Amazing Girlie Night Out

From left to right: My sister-in-law, Mary, my sister, Tammi, Me and my sister, Gracie.

We spent a really super-cool(can I still say super-cool without sounding super-uncool?) night at Verizon Wireless Music Center aka Deer Creeke. The "Opening Act" was Montgomery Gentry, who did about an hour, fifteen set and really got everyone going. It was an amazing show in and of itself and to top it all off, next was the "Big Dog Daddy" Toby Keith. All I can truly say was WOW. I have been to several country music shows, but this has got to have been the best. From beginning to end the energy never stopped, never even slowed. The volume was at such a level that our clothing actually vibrated...the water in our bottles was thum-thuming like in "Jurrasic Park." After the concert, we were all shouting at each other because we couldn't hear. Soooo fun though.

We also had purchased lawn tickets for the show and were able to upgrade to center section seats for only twenty dollars, which would still have been less than half of the price of a regular ticket. So totally great. I think we could probably try that for the next concert. Also, we were there a bit early and saw all these great tail-gating parties going on. So, for the next concert, we'll definitely have to bring some cold drinks and a little grill. Just because we'd be doing it in a mini-van doesn't mean it wouldn't be cool, right?