Old Stationery junkies never die, they just run out of ink...

Ever since I was in primary school, I've hoarded stationery. First it was the funky eraser collection in the Little Bitty Bin, then it was the collection of metallic gel ink pens and beautifully covered notebooks. The Back to School period was exciting simply because I loved stationery - the feel of a new, fresh notebook; the smooth progression of a new pen as it glided effortlessly over the page; the clean, unsullied pencil case bursting with new items. School itself could be a drag, but at least I had cool stuff to write with.

What do you do when you're no longer a student, or the computer has become your notebook?


You visit stationery websites, of course. In the privacy of your own home you can become that 10 year old again, itching to get your hands on that new folder.

Here are my two favourites at the moment:

Smiggle (they have bendy pens!!!)

Kikki-K (slightly more sedate and classy, but just as exciting)

I could justify it all by saying it's a necessary resource for helping us become more organised in our busy lives. But the reality is, I just like window shopping. Affluenza's got me again!

Precious small child moment...

Just had to share this one...

Picture our two-an-a-half year-old sitting in a church pew, leafing through one of the pew bibles. As he riffles through, he says this: "...and God did that, ... and God did that, ... and God did that... and God did that, and it was good!"

Very cute.

This dog stole my daughter's biscuit

She looks pretty happy about it, too.

Relaxing in stress

For the past few weeks, our family (well, the adults in our family - the children have been unwilling passengers) have been swimming in a sea of work. It was Friday when we popped our heads up for a brief attempt at rest. We failed dismally.

Why do we struggle so much to relax?
There are a couple of reasons. Firstly, our home is our office. Hence, home is no longer a restful haven, and any rest to be gained must be done away from the house, lest we drown in a sea of phone calls.
Secondly, working in our small town means that we cannot simply go to the local park/cafe etc. Stepping out in town invariably results in us running into at least several people from our congregation, all of whom immediately assume we're bludging. So no walks down the road to the playground for us!
Thirdly, I have realised that I grew up with bad recreational habits. In the city, the main form of recreation is shopping. Shopping in a large mall is not a relaxing activity, particularly if you are carting around small children and a reluctant husband. On our stretched budget, it's also far too expensive. And that's completely forgetting the futility of the activity anyway...
The fourth, and biggest problem with our ability to relax is that we haven't had the time to plan what to do. Days off hit us like an ambush, and we waste most of it wondering where to go. Our most recent rest day devolved into a visit to a Christian bookshop and a drive to a furniture store to pick up a bookshelf. Hardly restful!

Mind you, I now have more space for my SCRADD-neglected reading matter...

Quote of the day

I used to hate coming here, but now I love it!
- Small child in week 3 of SRE classes

The situation of Mummy-ness

Firstly, my apologies for the poor grammar in the title. It's been a big day.

I've just been thinking about the mental knots we tie for ourselves as parents. I'm not sure whether it's unique to the feminine side of the parental spectrum, or whether it's a universal parent-type phenomenon. It's something that can leave us discontented, exhausted, and sometimes with patchy bald spots where we've torn out our hair.

Let me outline a common chain of events to illustrate:

1. We have sleep, intellects, jobs that satisfy, and the taken-for-granted feeling that we can handle the world.
   
2. We have children.
3. We love said children deeply, and think the way they crinkle their little noses is the most beautiful thing we've ever seen.
4. We have no sleep.
5. We lose intellectual discussion/feelings of mastery as we struggle to learn how to wash clothes 57 times a week while covered in mashed pumpkin.
   
6. Love for aforementioned children is muted beneath ever-growing desires to regain sleep/intellect/mastery.
7. We desire "a break". Grandparents/significant others step in to give us one, and send us out of the house.
   
8. We wander aimlessly through "the break", wishing we smelled like mashed pumpkin and desperately missing that crinkled little nose. If at shops, we may pick up baby knick-knacks.
   
9. We rush home early from the break to see the little crinkled noses and hope that they missed us as much as we missed them. We're often disappointed.
10. The cycle begins again at point 3.
    

I know. It's a little pathetic. It's an interesting mix of love, selfishness, and fatigue that puts us there. We're dissatisfied when we're at home (particularly at 3:35am), and we're dissatisfied when we're away. Who'd be a parent?

Still, I don't think I'd change it for the world - I might miss a nose crinkle!

MeChurch, YouTube

In a similar vein to my previous post (see below), this is a very amusing video on YouTube.

MeChurch. Where it's all about You.

Do You LOBOP?

I've discovered something a little disconcerting about myself. It's a little scandalous, perhaps a little life-threatening, but really just downright annoying.

I listen to sermons on behalf of other people.

It started off innocently, years and years ago. I'd been talking to a friend about a particular issue. Lo and behold, the sermon that very week was on the same issue. My scandalous thought? "X should listen to this." The practice of LOBOP* had begun...

The problem is, it's become a habit. It wasn't such a big deal when I was single and childless, and had the attention span to take in an entire talk. Even with the occasional "Take that, X, Y or Z!", I could still listen long enough to hear things that applied to me, and be sorry for my actions. The problem grew when I went to college, and had to "critique" sermons on a regular basis. It grew even further when I had small children, who reduced my ability to listen for periods longer than one-and-a-half sentences. I've now developed the stupendous ability to speed-apply: I can hear a sermon application and identify the appropriate malfeasant instantly. Entire sermons can go by without a single moment of introspection. LOBOP has become the order of the day.

Why is it such a problem?

Well, there's the blindingly obvious "water off a duck's back" issue. How can I be growing if I'm impervious to rebuke or encouragement? How can I expect people to listen to me teaching if I'm unteachable myself? An unteachable teacher creates unteachable students.

There's also the problem that I'm increasing my level of bitterness and unforgiveness towards others, and I'm becoming just plain unpleasant and judgemental. Often if I'm LOBOP-ing, it's because I've heard someone complaining or doing something I think is wrong. Someone who is tearing other people down instead of building them up. Someone who wants everything done for them, but won't put the effort in to do something themselves. Someone who's trying to see how close to the line they can get without crossing it. Someone who puts themselves ahead of Jesus and their brothers and sisters in Christ. Someone just like me.

I've been walking around with a very large timber plank in my eye for some time now...


*LOBOP= Listening On Behalf of Other People

Quote of the Day

"Bitterness is like swallowing poison and hoping the other person dies."
(Wish I could remember who said it first...)