Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Yuck of the Irish
This Monday I decided to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with a nice, traditional dinner of corned beef with onions and potatoes, cabbage, green jell-o with pears, and green sugar cookies. (Green jell-o is a very traditional Irish food, in case you weren't aware.) I had never really had corned beef growing up, but I love corned beef hash, so I assumed I would be quite the fan. Not so much.
The corned beef was nice and tender after a long day in the crock pot, and the baked cabbage was buttery-smelling and juicy, so I was really excited to dive in. Michael started eating before I did, since I was busy breaking up Isaiah's piece of corned beef and giving him a bite. I asked Michael what he thought of it all, since I had never made it before, and he told me it was good. Then, after a few bites, he politely said that maybe we should just save it for the once-a-year celebration of St. Patrick's Day. After another bite or two, he cautiously asked if there would be enough for leftovers tomorrow or if we would be eating something else (as he gulped down milk to try and drown out the taste of the corned beef.) At that point I let the poor, sweet man off the hook and confessed that I didn't think I could ever eat corned beef again. Michael's face flooded with relief, and he offered the tip that if you pile plenty of onions and cabbage on top of each bite of the beef, it really masked the taste pretty well. I ended up just having a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich anyway. My green jell-o with pears was good, though. Isaiah actually ate all of his corned beef, plus some of mine I couldn't manage to eat, his cabbage, onions, jell-o, pears, and a cookie. It's pretty pitiful when my toddler is a better eater than I am. Isaiah also had left-over corned beef and onions for lunch the next day, because Michael and I certainly weren't going to touch it.
As for baby news, our little girl has dropped. It happened last Monday as I was driving to pick Michael up from work. The drop was actually so sudden (and rather painful) that I swerved into the other lane of traffic; praise God no one was there! I wasn't even sure what had happened until I got out of the car and realized that she had either dropped big-time, or someone had snuck a bowling ball into my pants. At my doctor's visit on Friday, he confirmed that she was very low (I actually needed no confirmation of that, thankyouverymuch) and told me that I'm 50% effaced and 3 cm dilated.
While I'm definitely excited that she is apparently going to come soon, I'm also feeling some major control issues. Mainly, my issue is that I am facing the reality of how little control I have. Normally, I find so much peace in giving up control to God, but I'm having a tremendously difficult time doing it right now. I want to count her kicks to make sure she's doing well in there; I want to reread the book on preparing older siblings; I want to label all the drawers so anyone coming to help will know exactly where Isaiah's jammies are supposed to go...I want to do anything I can do that will fit onto a list so I can check it off at the end of the day and feel good about what I've accomplished. I don't know why I'm feeling this urge to have control, but I know I really need to let go. I need to give myself some rest and some peace. God has been so faithful to our family, and he has repeatedly, tirelessly, endlessly shown Michael and I that his provision is more than enough for us. There is nothing I can give my children that will compare to the wonderful gifts God has in store for them, so I just need to get out of his way.
Oh, and just when we thought spring was coming...Minnesota played a dirty trick on us and dumped more snow. Isaiah was delighted because one of his favorite activities is shoveling snow. All day long he asked to "subble sew" sometimes even adding "please, please, please." He finally did get to go out into the mush with Daddy after work and do some "subbeling."