On Winter, Fishing and Life

Ella on the ice. Fishing!

So we went ice fishing a few Sundays ago. The whole family did. This is not a first for many in our family, except for me and the baby. (Yes, the baby went ice fishing too. And yes, all of my children had experienced getting fish from their previous fishing trips. Except for me and the baby.) So this was somehow our initiation into winter fishing. Fishing on ice is very new to me.

My son asked me tonight, "Mom, did you eat snow when you were little?" They've been told not to eat snow and, trying to be honest, they just mentioned over dinner that they've eaten a little bit of it. What child can resist white, resplendent, cold snow? To my son's question, I  replied that I haven't even seen snow until I was 23 years old.

A Haiyan Survivor's Tribute

Angelika drew as she told me
what she had gone through.
I listened with my heart beating so fast.
I am one blessed mother! (Check out our video.)

Makeover

Ohoo! I have curly hair. Yes, I just had a makeover.

Any woman won't probably say 'no' to a free makeover. That's why makeover shows are very popular. Who would not wish to be transformed to the best version of themselves?

Thus, when my husband suggested that I should have a makeover, even feeling slightly insulted (husbands are supposed to love their wives even for worse, read: wrinkles, fat rolls and under-eye circles. Ho! They rhyme!), I didn't decline outright.

Being in Russia and surrounded by beautiful women, I felt I needed it. Though I'm really wondering what could be done with falling hair (an after-giving-birth and nursing-a-baby phenomenon), sagging breasts and loose skin.

At any day, however, I can pass for a  sixteen year old (I'm short), that is, if you won't look too closely. Then you may catch a glimpse of a line or two on the forehead or a downy shadow of a mustache. 

Have a Messy Christmas!

Ho! Ho! Ho!

It's that time of season. Everybody is upbeat and in a celebratory mood. The snow is sparkling. The lights are twinkling. The aroma of food alone keeps one in good cheer. The brightly colored presents under a heavily decorated tree, keep anticipations high and spirits warm and loving. It's a time to be happy. A time to be merry.

But life, as we know life, is not all sparkly, not all warm, not all cheery. In fact, even as we celebrate with the tree twinkling and full of colors, tiny hands are reaching out and get a glass ball broken, or tiny feet racing around the house, little people shouting at each other, fighting or playing (who knows which), and big people screaming for them to stop. The cake did not turn out right. The oven acts out and the chicken is as raw as a leaf of lettuce in the salad, and everyone's hungry. Relatives come, tensions get high, 'cause there is at least one person in the family who just seem to rise the hair at your nape for no reason at all.

Life is messy. Real life is. It's not that picture-perfect Christmas card you just sent out to friends. It's that messy diaper that some of the time can't keep baby's clothes from getting soiled. It's the new shirt that you've just changed into and already smelling like spit-ups. It's the table all covered with crumbs and chicken bones. It's the messed-up dinner, the unmade beds, the reluctant children, piled-up laundry, the forgetful husband, the overwhelmed mom, the magic words left unsaid.

Keeping a Heart of Gratitude in the Midst of Hostility

Life has been more of a prison to me lately. I have been held captive by my anger and feelings of insecurity. The former is a means of defense against constant criticism, blame and disrespect. I wish to untangle myself but just as it is painful to leave the source of such anger and insecurities literally, so it is to let go of my anger. If I let go, then what? Would I be protected from further hurt?

In this state, it is very much difficult to be grateful. The only thing that has kept me grounded and not to let everything blow up are my children. How can people stay grateful in situations like this?

Motherhood

I'm on a journey that has no end.

It started off with one. Mikhail, my son, was my first child. With petitions and prayers that I have for him as a mother and the desire to know my Ultimate Parent so as to parent like Him, I set off on my journey to motherhood land. Misha came as a happy, fun-loving and thoughtful fellow. So was I. I was all thoughts and intentions. It was my intent to enjoy the whole journey. Misha made it easy. God gave me all that is in a baby in him. But as most journeys are, there were surprises and twists. 

Wasted

"Be careful how you live, not as fools but as those who are wise" (Ephesians 5:15).

I watched as I poured the contents of an expensive bottle of wine down the sink and out of sight into the drainage. It was a gift. But after an innocent request from a three-year old girl asking for a drink of juice with the bottle of wine in her hands, I decided to take the matter into my hands. No strong drink will my children ever see in this house, if anything is up to me. Wasted? No, not if it's  down in the drain and not in somebody's throat.