Eva is only 5 once...

and I should enjoy it. Before I can blink, she'll be 6, then 10, then 25, then... i can't even think about it!
After yet ANOTHER night of power struggles, angry words, punishments and overall aggravation over dinner, I am reevaluating my plan of attack. See, here is my problem. I'm viewing this dinner ISSUE as something I must attack. Well, the dinner I make is for my child, one of the people I love most in the world, not for my enemy, for the love of pete. So attacking it is probably the wrong way of thinking.
Eva is the world's SLOWEST eater. Yes, Sam, she may even have Ivy beat. She automatically finds something wrong with her dinner every night, takes forever to eat it, nibbling off itty bitty bird bites at a time, then alternately chewing and storing them in her cheek like a hamster, all the while fidgeting, talking, going to the bathroom, asking a million questions and essentially turning dinner in the Mac household into a marathon that sucks the ENTIRE evening dry. Interspersed are complaints of tiredness, questions about what privilege she will lose if she doesn't eat, temper tantrums if we try to make her eat and questions about why Charley always finishes first. BECAUSE she ACTUALLY EATS HER FOOD.
So, here's my plan. My child will not starve. I will serve her dinner and give her 25 minutes to eat it. IF she finishes, great. IF NOT, fine too. She won't get any snacks or such later on. 25 minutes. I will not nag, I will not help, I will not yell, I will not bribe. 25 minutes. That's it. Because I want to enjoy 5. and 6 and 1o and 25.
You heard it here. I wrote it so I can't change my mind.
and here is what i want to say to my daughters every night for the rest of their lives.

' "The LORD bless you and keep you;

the LORD make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;

the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace." '

I have my peace. My family.
Talk about lucky.
Tiff

television sucks my brain dry...

Actually, I think it's my kids that do that, so that by the end of the day, all the energy I have left is the ability to use my right index finger for channel flipping and my left hand for drinking a glass of wine or eating chocolate or some other evil little snack that will go straight to my... whatever. So it all starts innocently. I'm tired, so I figure I'll watch a little boob tube while I fold laundry, clean up my room or just SIT for one minute. Well, one minute bleeds into the next and the next and the next, until I find myself watching discovery health about 8 foot tall people or 2 foot tall people or people who are 2 foot tall and give birth or babies born without stuff or with extra stuff. Well you get the point. Or I could end up cheering those crazy people who think American Gladiators is a worthwhile life goal or the lucky people on deal or no deal who ALWAYS manage to screw up a good thing. The point is...
I'm wasting too much time glued to the idiot box. Just about every day, I check the blogs of my friends. I'm always amazed that Lucia and Michelle (the busiest human working mom on the planet) manage to post almost daily. I think I've figured out why. Either they are doing illegal drugs, they've cloned themselves OR the real reason... they don't tune in to tune out at night! I used to only turn on the TV for my fave shows. Well, this stupid writer's strike left me adrift and show-less. SO, I spend my time now surfing for replacements, which leads to the discovery health thing, which leads a lot of freaking out about getting pregnant again or searching the internet to see if I'm really a dwarf or have some strange and rare condition that will cause me to turn blue and grow a third eye... to WASTED time!
What, you ask, do I wish to do with this time? Sew, read, take a bath, talk to my hubby, talk to my friends, POST on this blog! Anything.
Well, what to do? I SUPPOSE, I'll just turn the damn thing off. I might need moral support. I might need medication. Or I might just really enjoy the quiet.
TV... is evil.
(Unless it's showing Desperate Housewives or Lost or Survivor.) Crap, this is going to be hard.
HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tiff
p.s. Happy Valentine's Day. I did manage to turn off the boob tube long enough to make THOSE dresses.

Fighting fire with...

GARTH BROOKS!
As most of you are aware, we had a heck of a fire season here. Along with many others, we were evacuated when the fires began threatening our homes. The Horno Fire came within a few miles of us and was a frightening site for several days. Leaving our home in the middle of night, fire on the horizon, smoke in the air and ashes raining from the sky, was one of the most frightening and sad events in my life. As a military family, I believe our possessions hold even more value to our hearts than the average family. We don't have a home base, a structure to call our own, so we make each place we land our home. We do so with the physical reminders of our unique lives and our travels and homes over the U.S. and the world. While I am the first one to purge the unnecessary from my home, I am also the champion of the sentimental. I've left behind family, friends, beloved pets, the homes I brought my babies to for the first time, the church I married in, the beloved island that brought me the best 3 years of my life. In each sentimental object, I find a memory. Whether it be love, laughter, sorrow, joy, or any other emotion, the memories triggered are the tapestry of our life.
When the evacuation became a reality, I frantically darted in and out of the rooms of this home, desperately trying to decide what really mattered to me. Was it pictures? The teddy bear my mother painted when pregnant with me? The crucifixes given to my children for their baptism? My baby book? Grandma Eva's artwork? Books that changed my life? The teddy bear I slept with until the fur was gone and the stuffing has fallen out? Letters from old friends?
As we departed our home for what could be the last time, backlit by the orange haze on the ridgeline behind our homes, it felt as thought I left behind parts of the soul of my family. Had we brought the most important things? I'm sure some of you are scoffing at this internal debate, thinking, "it's only stuff! The most important thing is that you were safe!" And, you know what? You're right. That was the most important thing. But the second most important thing to me is the place I wake up to each day and lay my head to rest each night.
It's the place I raise my children, love my husband and cherish my friends. And without all that stuff, I didn't know how I would make a home, remember the days past and create a haven for the days of the future. I still don't know, but what I do know is that God was watching over so many of us during that dismal week. We were safe, our homes were saved and life moved on. God was watching and the firefighters were channeling his power to find the strength and perseverance to keep fighting til victory was theirs. And theirs it was.
So where, you ask, does Garth Brooks fit into all this?
With one hell of a benefit concert (actually 5 of them in 3 days!) with all proceeds benefiting the Fire Intervention Relief Effort. Click here to donate or read about it...
http://www.rrmtf.org/2008firerelief/default.aspx
Thanks to my MOST fabulous Uncle Ted and Aunt Deb, we were lucky enough to see this amazing tribute and benefit. And I took a picture just before the concert of all of us. It's another memory to add to add to my tapestry, something else I'd grab just before the next fire, flood, hurricane, typhoon, earthquake...

Thanks for the memories, all of you. I hope they forever live in my mind, my house, my boxes, on my walls and in each of you.
And a huge thanks to Aunt Deb, Uncle Ted & Becca for making this new place feel so much like home with your love, your open arms, your laughter and just being you. We love you all so much.
Sentimentally!
Tiff