I could say a lot....

...About this man....about his unnatural generosity and humility.  His never-ending love and faithfulness.  About his very abnormal ability to choose love and righteousness over bitterness or cynicism.  About his love for learning and his flexibility.  Though I'm certain that he is human (and allegedly flawed like the rest of us)...the typical human traits of self-promotion and self-defense and self-importance are strangely absent.  He cares about being liked....I think I get that from him.  But rather than try to convince you about his worth and greatness or his many areas of wisdom and experience and expertise, he'd usually rather stoop down on all fours to be your footstool for changing a lightbulb...if that's what you needed...

His name means a great deal to many people.  I grew up knowing that.  My last name was big in a small town.  And I carried it happily, gratefully.  Because without fail, wherever I went, I got to hear stories of how my father had blessed and enriched someone's life with his teaching or his kindness or his care.  I got to hear about his wisdom and his integrity.

I believed them...and I felt proud.  But to me, he was not important because of his ministry or because of his small-town fame... he was important because he was the one who packed my lunches and drew stick-figure pictures on the brown paper bag.  He made me omelettes for breakfast and read Proverbs to us every morning.  He helped me with my horrible geometry homework and listened when I was frustrated or excited or nervous. He told me long, running stories about Charlie Chipmunk every night.  He loved my friends and invested in them too.  He still does.  I could always find him in his office reading or praying early in the morning. And I knew that often, he was praying for me.  Still does.  He fixed just about anything of mine that was broken, and now he fixes things for my children...even cheap dollar store things that should probably just be thrown away.  It's impossible to buy him anything, because he never talks about things he wants.  At family gatherings, when all the adults in the room are tired and just want to sit for some adult conversation, he's usually outside playing with the kids.

As an adult, I still get to hear those gushing stories about my dad often (though sometimes now, I get to reveal my relationship to him in my own time and on my own terms, since I'm disguised by new Corbin name).

He isn't a saintly hero to everyone.  But to me he's the closest human to ever deserve that title.

Happy Birthday Dad.  I love you.

maya grace

She is grace.  A gift.  Gentle and so thoughtful.  She loves deeply and compassionately.  She is protective and nurturing.  She's funny and smart.  And she loves to make people laugh.  She gets so excited about the little things, that it is always fun to watch her face fill with delight with any surprise.  Even if it is just a sandwich cut like a gingerbread man or a wave from teenager that she knows and loves.  She's the best gift-receiver that ever lived.  She 'ooh's' and 'ahs' over things that are beautiful.  And she makes sure you know that she feels grateful and SO lucky to have received your blessing.  

It's pretty fun to surprise her.  

When she's comfortable and confident in her surroundings, she's goofy and weird and utterly lacks self-awareness...she just dives into whatever play she sees or imagines, and never thinks about how others might perceive her pretend voice or wild chirping sounds or authoritative play directions. 

But sometimes, she's painfully shy, completely quiet, deeply sensitive and very attached.  

She loves affirmation and safety.  

She knows the power of words.  She had a pretty big vocabulary before most kids her age could talk. And at six years old, she really loves a great story.  In either role (listener or teller), Maya could live in a story all day long.  She knows how to use words. (This ability can be used for encouragement, persuasion, anger, manipulation, imagination, storytelling, expressions of love...)  

Mostly, she uses her power well. 

She's supposed to be in bed, but she came downstairs to use the restroom and wash her hands.  She stopped in front of me, stroked my hair away from my face, and kissed my forehead.  

  

I am so grateful. 

Happy Sixth Birthday, Maya.

"Thank you for being born and being among us"

"Birthdays need to be celebrated. I think it is more important to celebrate a birthday than a successful exam, a promotion, or a victory. Because to celebrate a birthday means to say to someone, 'Thank you for being you.' On a birthday, we do not say, 'Thanks for what you did, or said, or accomplished.' No, we say: 'Thank you for being born and being among us.'"

~ Henri Nouwen, Here and Now

Happy Birthday to my Sophia Marie Elise!

Delightful

That was the word we used a lot when Sophie was a baby.
She was.
Indescribably delightful.
Happy, goofy, engaging, delicate, easy to please, delighted, and delightful.

The older she's grown, her delightfulness seems only to be enhanced.  She delights everyone around her by her witty sense of humor, her great comedic timing, her mischief, her gentleness, her devotion to her big sister, her interest in others, her generosity, her thoughtful gifts of tiny scraps of paper meticulously cut with safety scissors, her dramatic story-telling, the way she invites herself into everyone's awareness with questions and stories and smiles.

Maya can't hide her grin (even though she pretends to be annoyed) when Sophie grabs her around the waist and shouts, "Yo-ah the best Sissy in the whole wide wold!!"  And when Sophie breaks down because she's hurt, or sad, or has just been corrected, or she's just too emotional and tired, she starts blubbering "Sissy!" in her pretend crying baby voice.  When Maya comes and wraps her arms around her, stroking her head, Sophie starts laughing through her tears.

Without whining (or even showing disappointment), she accepts her limitations from a lot of 'normal' treats and activities because of her peanut allergy, almost every outdoor allergy possible, and her asthma.  But she does make sure everyone knows she's allergic to peanuts.  It's just an interesting fact she carries with her, one more way to make friends.
She makes friends everywhere I take her.  Once she starts talking, the new stranger is usually startled by her voice or vocabulary or random comment and they just can't stop listening.  And within minutes, they are ready to offer her anything she might ask them for.  Maybe it's those huge eyes? Her earnest voice? Or maybe it's the absence of the letter "R" in her speech?

Either way, I've loved my world with three-year-old Sophie.  It's dwindling away...rapidly.  In a few hours, she'll be four.  But as panicky as that makes me feel,...mostly... I just feel pretty lucky to be her mom.  "Motch twenty-eight" will always be a special day.

'Four' is gonna be great.

Happy Birthday, Oreos

Apparently, Oreos are celebrating their 100th birthday.

So.... they are on sale (and specially engraved with a birthday design)....which is convenient, because it's also Ryan's birthday.

And Oreos, (though a rare and dangerous purchase for our family) are essential for Ryan's birthday celebrations.  Almost every year, I create some kind of oreo dessert for my love.

Last year it was in a trifle bowl....

The trifle dessert was really delicious and decadent, but so deep and frozen, it was tricky to serve.  This year...a new creation using my (new) springform pan.  Oreo Ice Cream Pie.   An oreo crust (crushed cookies mixed with melted butter and flattened into the pan), vanilla ice-cream frozen into a round ice-cream cake shape, and topped with cool whip and crushed oreos.  I made up my own version, loosely based on other Oreo cookie cakes and pies found on google.  I also watched this video for added confidence.  Mine wasn't exactly like Gretchen Seigchrists's, but the girls watched her video about 10 times while they 'helped' me make it.  

Tonight, we brought it to El Burrito Loco for our traditional Taco Tuesday dinner.  There was plenty of oreo cake to share. We made sure to only bring one (big) piece home.  They honored Ryan with a sombrero, a song, free fried ice-cream, and (his favorite part)...whipped cream spread on his face.  

Another highlight of the birthday dinner: Maya lost her first tooth.  

Quite a day for celebrating in the Corbin home.  

Happy Birthday Oreos!

And happy birthday to my Love.  I am lucky to be yours.  

(And not just because I really like a good excuse to eat oreos)

Supremes de Volaille aux Champignons

Or...Chicken breasts with mushrooms.  a la Julia Child...sortof.   Made for my almost-birthday boy husband.  He loves mushrooms, so they were an important ingredient for tonight's pre-celebratory dinner.  His real birthday dinner will be Tuesday, and the primary ingredient then will be oreos (for dessert). That's just a given.  Not sure about the meal yet.

I don't think I will ever cook in Mrs. Child's fashion, at least not on any sort of regular basis.  There is something about her meticulous care and time and planning and obsession for finding precisely perfect ingredients and doing each process the very best way every time....that doesn't exactly come naturally for me in the kitchen.  And honestly, this doesn't really bother me (at least not very much).  I do enjoy cooking, and baking especially.  I'm not incredibly adventurous (and also not a detailed meal planner), but have become braver (and a better at planning/cooking) in my late twenties and ....now my ...thirties. (Wow, that sounds disturbing, my "thirties")  Maybe in another season of my life this way of life and cooking will become a priority and a habit.  But for now, it's just not.  

But tonight, I was inspired by her Supremes de Volaille aux Champignons (mostly because I had chicken breast and mushrooms and was dreaming about a certain creamy flavor).  So I made up my own improvised version of her carefully tested and retested-to-predictable-perfection recipe.  She would be horrified, I'm sure.  I know this because I just finished her 'memoir' My Life in France.  In fact, I feel like we're sort-of friends now.  She might not know me, but I certainly know her.  And I think we could tolerate one another.  We'd find a few things in common.  I like honesty.  And she's pretty direct and opinionated.  I like to listen and learn, and she would have great stories to tell and advice to give.  I did love her book.  I could probably read it again, just to learn and retain more of her vast knowledge of french cuisine.  And to imagine I am living in her parisian flat, speaking fluent french, and eating delicious food all the time.  I certainly am not interested in a life-swap.  I know I have it far better. 

And now....my 'lesser' (but still quite delicious) version of "Supremes"...

1 Chicken breast, cut into strips

some (1 tablespoon?) butter

a tiny bit of olive oil

juice from 1/2 lemon

salt and pepper 

dried basil, oregano, parsley, garlic powder

1 pour of chicken broth (1/2 cup?)

1 package sliced mushrooms (already sliced, I know, lazy, probably 'tasteless' in Julia's opinion, but easy)

2 handfulls fresh spinach leaves 

1/3 cup white wine (I used Reisling, but a dry white wine would probably be better)

1/4 cup cream

Coat the chicken breast in lemon juice, sprinkle with salt and pepper and italian seasonings, cut it into strips, then sautee the chicken strips in butter.  Then, add chicken broth, wine, and mushrooms and simmer for a bit. Next, add spinach, simmer a bit more...and just before serving, stir in the cream.  Serve over angel hair pasta.  

I loved the lemon-buttery flavor of the sauce.  I think I'm going to try a chicken and gnocchi soup with spinach and the same kind of base.

 ...........................................................

And for dessert, puff-pastry brushed with egg and sugar, baked until puffy and golden and crumbling with flakes....with crushed strawberries drizzled on top.

Ingredients: 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined 1 tbsp olive oil 3 cloves garlic, chopped 1/4 cup white wine 14 oz can diced tomatoes, drained 1/2 cup half and half oregano salt and fresh pepper 1 tsp lemon juice 1/4 cup chopped parsley (I added fresh basil and oregano too) 8 oz angel hair pasta (whole wheat, low carb or high fiber) Directions: Boil water for pasta. Cook according to package instructions.Meanwhile, season shrimp with salt and oregano. Cook shrimp and garlic in olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, wine, salt and pepper and cook an additional minute. Add half and half and cook 1 more minute.Add lemon juice and parsley and serve over pasta. Divide equally in 4 plates. Now that we are back into the familiar groove of school, I'm still feeling grateful and happy to be a teacher. I love summer, but I think I'd feel lucky in my job even without those three months off every year! Today was just one of those great days. I felt prepared for the day, more organized (than last year), confident in my role, and surrounded by lovable students excited to make music. Maya is loving Kindergarten. She seems to come home every day either exhausted, or incredibly (obnoxiously) hyper....and full of stories. Some stories come out immediately in the car, others just pop up over dinner, or bedtime...or days later. And some of her stories are just for me, conspiratorially whispered into my ear when Ryan is across the room. She finished her last vowel today in class. And with her mixture of Ryan's meticulous perfectionism...and my...distracted, free-spirited...creativity?....it's a challenge sometimes to get all her schoolwork done in timely manner. But, every paper she does finish looks...impeccable. So our new motto is "Do your best, but GET IT DONE!" Sometimes I have to repeat that motto again and again...for me. Just to stay on task. Between the laundry and ironing, the house-cleaning, the dinners and the dishes, the online coursework and reading and communication, the lesson planning, and school paperwork, the Kindergarten papers, and the places to be, the doctors appointments, and the pretend play, the puzzles, and the storybook reading, and the important conversations and times with friends....I get a little...off task at times, running frantically between jobs, never finishing any. And sometimes, I just end up on the couch, bewildered at where to start. Then there's always facebook! :) But this week, the crazy chaos is manageable. And quite fun. I love my new schedule. I miss the faces and the familiar routines, the musical fun, the shared history that my old teaching role provided for so many years. I will cherish my memories, and 'my kids' there forever. But I'm feeling much more settled, more rooted this year, both as a Mother and as a Strings Teacher. I love my days with just Sophie and our Tuesdays with just me and both girls. We go to ballet and gymnastics, and we play together and read and talk all day. I'm pretty lucky. And next weekend, my Love is taking me away for my belated birthday celebration. Two days and one night in Chicago alone. Just the anticipation is a perfectly delightful gift.

"Shrimp cooked with tomatoes, a touch of cream, white wine and a hint of lemon. This pasta dish is so simple to make and is ready in about 15 minutes, perfect for a weeknight meal."


That's what "Gina" said about the Angel Hair with Shrimp and Tomato Sauce, and I need as many perfect weeknight meals as I can get.

Ingredients:

• 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1/4 cup white wine
• 14 oz can diced tomatoes, drained
• 1/2 cup half and half
• oregano
• salt and fresh pepper
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• 1/4 cup chopped parsley (I added fresh basil and oregano too)
• 8 oz angel hair pasta (whole wheat, low carb or high fiber)

Directions:

Boil water for pasta. Cook according to package instructions.Meanwhile, season shrimp with salt and oregano. Cook shrimp and garlic in olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat for about 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, wine, salt and pepper and cook an additional minute. Add half and half and cook 1 more minute.Add lemon juice and parsley and serve over pasta. Divide equally in 4 plates.

Now that we are back into the familiar groove of school, I'm still feeling grateful and happy to be a teacher. I love summer, but I think I'd feel lucky in my job even without those three months off every year!

Today was just one of those great days. I felt prepared for the day, more organized (than last year), confident in my role, and surrounded by lovable students excited to make music.

Maya is loving Kindergarten. She seems to come home every day either exhausted, or incredibly (obnoxiously) hyper....and full of stories. Some stories come out immediately in the car, others just pop up over dinner, or bedtime...or days later. And some of her stories are just for me, conspiratorially whispered into my ear when Ryan is across the room. She finished her last vowel today in class. And with her mixture of Ryan's meticulous perfectionism...and my...distracted, free-spirited...creativity?....it's a challenge sometimes to get all her schoolwork done in timely manner. But, every paper she does finish looks...impeccable. So our new motto is "Do your best, but GET IT DONE!"


Sometimes I have to repeat that motto again and again...for me. Just to stay on task. Between the laundry and ironing, the house-cleaning, the dinners and the dishes, the online coursework and reading and communication, the lesson planning, and school paperwork, the Kindergarten papers, and the places to be, the doctors appointments, and the pretend play, the puzzles, and the storybook reading, and the important conversations and times with friends....I get a little...off task at times, running frantically between jobs, never finishing any. And sometimes, I just end up on the couch, bewildered at where to start. Then there's always facebook! :)

But this week, the crazy chaos is manageable. And quite fun. I love my new schedule. I miss the faces and the familiar routines, the musical fun, the shared history that my old teaching role provided for so many years. I will cherish my memories, and 'my kids' there forever. But I'm feeling much more settled, more rooted this year, both as a Mother and as a Strings Teacher. I love my days with just Sophie and our Tuesdays with just me and both girls. We go to ballet and gymnastics, and we play together and read and talk all day. I'm pretty lucky.

And next weekend, my Love is taking me away for my belated birthday celebration. Two days and one night in Chicago alone. Just the anticipation is a perfectly delightful gift.

A post from the past that seems fitting today...

"So many pieces of who I am and what I value have been acquired through years of watching and listening to my big brothers. They have, in ways that I'm sure I don't even recognize, shaped me...my understanding of family, of love, of friendship, trust, parenthood, faith. In unique ways, they each continue to challenge and sharpen my understanding of who I am, how I perceive and think about the world, and how I know and love my Creator.
Different seasons of my life have particular memories of times spent with each one of them..."

(And since today is his birthday...I pick brother David to celebrate.)


Some of the only times in my life that I've felt physically strong, athletic, fast, were the hours I spent practicing basketball in our driveway, learning to dribble and shoot with David, or attempting to copy his jump-rope routine to become a higher jumper. Along with my dad, it was David that taught me to kick a soccer ball, shoot a basketball, serve a volleyball, bump, set....and well, (I watched him) 'spike'.

He made college seem magical when I visited him for 'Little Sibs' weekend. I have a truly terrible memory (I'm realizing this more and more), but strangely, I have remarkably solid memories of those weekends with David, just going to his classes and drawing in my sketch book, 'hanging out' with his friends, playing in a sibling 'game show' with him on campus (we didn't win, and I still remember the 2 questions we got wrong), having my presence announced in his dorm by loud shouts of "Woman in the hall!!"...I was probably about 10.

I fondly remember sitting in his classroom as a high-schooler, feeling proud, happy, and actually challenged to think (too often a rarity in high school). My friends loved and respected him so much, and I loved knowing that. He shaped a lot of my friends' lives too.

And in more recent years...I smile when I think about running back and forth between our houses to borrow a vaccuum, an egg, a spare key, a lawn mower, dinner, to share cookies, to use a shower, to return a run-away dog, to ask a question. He always seems to be close when I'm locked out of my house, my car won't start, I'm stuck in the snow, or I've run out of gas. David has rescued me a lot. He does that well. Only, it was way easier when we were neighbors. I do miss Forest Hills.

And now, I get to watch the way that he loves my daughters and they love him. His eyes shine when he bends down to hug them. Sometimes they run for their hug, but sometimes they giggle and run away. He is the self-proclaimed "Yes Uncle." He explained it to me once, "if they ask me for something they want, I say yes." I laughed and rolled my eyes a little, I think. It isn't really true, I hope.

And once again, I get to sit in his 'classroom' sometimes. Lately, he's been preaching about love from I Corinthians. And I feel like I hear him just a little differently than most of the people who hear his teaching, because I'm lucky enough to know how he has always shown me love in his own quiet and steady, always dependable, never selfish, frequently rescuing, and even tender-when-necessary way.

Happy Birthday David. I love you.


I posted a similar blog post back in 2008. I've used several quotes from the original, but added and deleted some as well.

May Day

Five years ago tonight...I was nesting furiously. I spent the entire day home alone with open windows, billowing curtains, fresh spring air... I scrubbed bathrooms, dusted and moved all the furniture in order to mop the hardwood floors in the entire house. Every dish and sheet and towel and piece of clothing was clean and put away. When Ryan came home and saw my crazy eyes...he was a little nervous. (He'd heard of this nesting thing and knew what it meant.)

When I was finally satisfied with my work (around midnight)...I took a long relaxing shower and snuggled into bed next to Ryan. My bags were packed and ready. I slept hard, knowing that if Maya came the next day...I'd be ready. And of course, the sweet girl woke me up in the middle of the night...ready to arrive, just in time. Her arrival seemed surreal and beyond all my expectations. My love for her, already so deep, suddenly felt like a beautiful and excruciating weight on my chest.

She is sleeping happily...wondering what the morning will bring. Pondering her new five-year-old identity. I can't wait to celebrate with her. She has so many fun and surprising ideas and thoughts. I love seeing the world differently now, hearing her perspective of how things are...and how they should be.

Now, I'm going to make some cookies for her pre-school class. I'll probably clean a lot tonight too..but I don't think I'll catch up to my old expectations this time around. That probably won't happen for a while in this house...


...and I keep telling myself that's okay. Because our days are filled with better things than perfect cleanliness and order.