by Heather Plett | Jun 5, 2007 | parenting, sleep
Some of the parenting experts seem to think you can “teach your child to sleep through the night.” Based on personal experience, I kinda think it’s baloney.
One would think that after three children, I’d have perfected the “teaching”. Quite the opposite. Sleep patterns got progressively worse with each child. My oldest slept through the night at two weeks and has been doing so consistently ever since. Not much “teaching” involved there.
Maddie, on the other hand, is five years old and still only sleeps through the night about half the time. Sigh. The other half of the time, she gets up in the middle of the night (at least once) and wants to climb into our bed. If I let her, much tossing and turning ensues. Moan. I suppose I didn’t do enough “teaching” when she was 2 weeks old.
It’s 2:23 A.M. My sleep has been disturbed one too many times. Where are all those parenting experts when I need them?
by Heather Plett | Jun 4, 2007 | books
I’ve read three books lately that have all had “staying power” in one way or another. I find myself thinking back to all of them now and then. They’ve also all become the kind of books that get mentioned in conversation, as in “I read something in a book once…”
Honeymoon In Purdah – There wasn’t much about this book that would have made me want to snatch it off the bookstore shelves. It’s not particularly well named, nor does the cover design draw me in. Good thing it was referred to me by a friend whose opinion I trust, or I probably never would have read it. I didn’t expect to, but I LOVE this book. I devoured it like candy. It’s a memoir of a woman who travels across Iran “just because it’s the only country that scares her, and she doesn’t believe in fear.” Alison Wearing is a seasoned traveler and free spirit. Though she normally travels alone, she takes along her “husband” (who’s really her gay roommate with a fake marriage license) on this trip because it’s the one country she thinks it’s best to travel with a male companion.
Wearing has the most amazing experiences in Iran because she is completely open to them. She lets strangers take her places she would never find if she were merely a tourist. She spends time in people’s homes, and embraces the culture of Iran. In return, she is embraced by almost everyone she meets. Though there are many frustrations with traveling in a country where there are so many restrictions, she learns to embrace even the wearing of the hejab as it allows her a certain freedom to blend in with the locals.
This is the kind of book that should be assigned reading in our high schools. It opens your mind to the humanity that is behind the media stories that taint our views of certain cultures and countries. It shows the many shades of brilliant colour behind what is too often painted as black and white.
Of This Earth – Reading this book felt a lot like spending a relaxed Sunday afternoon at my parents’ kitchen table in the old farm house, listening to my Dad tell stories of his childhood. It’s the story of author Rudy Wiebe’s Mennonite boyhood in the Boreal Forest in Saskatchewan. He grew up in much the same environment as my dad – a place and time where hard work, honesty, and a good singing voice (to belt out the hymns) were the highest virtues.
His retelling is poetic though not romanticized. He paints a stark picture of the harshness of life in those early days on the farm, yet his memory of it is not one of bitterness or judgment. He was clearly molded by the values he was taught by the good, honest people who raised him and watched over him. Though the adult version of him doesn’t necessarily understand all of their choices, he honours them for the place they held in his life.
He slips in occasional low German phrases that wouldn’t mean much to the average reader, but were fun for me to try to translate before reading the English. (My low German is weak at best, and since it’s not a written language, his capturing of it was purely phonetic.)
This book has found a warm spot in my heart. I only wish that I could pass it on to my dad.
Running With Scissors – It was rather surreal reading this book after reading Of This Earth. Both are boyhood memoirs, but that’s where the similarities end. While Rudy Wiebe’s upbringing can be defined by the “virtues” that molded him, there is not much in Augusten Burrough’s upbringing that can even loosely be defined as “virtuous”. Augusten Burroughs is quite possibly the most shockingly honest and bold memoirist I have ever read. I’d read one of his later books, and was rather intrigued by it, so when I spotted this one at a thrift store in Toronto, I didn’t hesitate to fork out $1.25 for it.
Most of you are probably already familiar with this one, since it made a fairly big splash when it came out and has already been made into a movie. It’s the story of how Burrough’s mother gave him up to live with her eccentric, free spirited, and morally bankrupt psychologist. Anything goes in this household. Children are allowed to make their own “rules”, even when that includes cutting holes in the kitchen roof to put in a sunroom, or having sex with the psychologist’s adult patients.
Reading this book makes you feel rather voyeuristic, as you peer into the life of the most unusual “family” you can ever imagine meeting. Much of it even borders on the offensive, as Burroughs goes into great detail describing his encounters with the pedophile who lives in the shed behind the house. Despite that, however, it is absolutely intriguing reading what I would consider rather brilliant retelling of a twisted, perverse childhood. Burroughs has a masterful way with words.
by Heather Plett | May 29, 2007 | Ethiopia
Step 1 – prepare
Step 2 – roast
Step 3 – boil water
Step 4 – grind
Step 5 – scoop
Step 6 – pour
Step 7 – savour
Notes:
– do all this while burning frankincense on a separate burner (can be seen on the bottom left of the picture below – unfortunately I neglected to take a separate picture)
– generally, a snack like popcorn, nuts or roasted barley is served along with the coffee
– the third cup is considered the luckiest
– fortunately for a non-coffee-drinker such as myself, it’s quite acceptable (and even expected) to drink it with lots of sugar
– for some reason (though I never managed to get an explanation as to its significance) there is generally dried grass spread out on the floor or ground where the coffee ceremony takes place. Even the airport coffee shop had grass on the floor.
When you first arrive in Ethiopia, and you tell someone about the things you hope to experience while you’re there, if you mention a coffee ceremony, someone will probably look at you a little funny and say “well of COURSE you’ll experience a coffee ceremony.” It’s not something that is out-of-the-ordinary and only done for special occasions. It’s done every day. It is their time of connecting with community and family. It’s when they catch up on the news of the day with those they care about.
My favourite coffee ceremony moment was fairly late one night, after a very full day, sitting on mats under the star-lit sky, listening to the quiet cacophony of a village going to sleep, and watching the fire glow under the coffee beans. It was too dark for pictures, but I have the memories.
by Heather Plett | May 28, 2007 | random
I’m at home with a sick child this morning, so my mind has a little time to wander to random places…
– I’ve been thinking alot about the Ethiopian coffee ceremony lately. It’s a beautiful thing, where you watch them “create” rather than simply “brew” your coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker, but when someone roasts the beans over a small fire, grinds them with a well-worn wooden mortar and pestal, and brews your coffee in a elegant yet simple black urn, all while burning frankincense over a separate small fire, of course I couldn’t resist. I’ve been thinking about it, because it was such a simple yet profound example of “anticipation”. When we consume the instant meals and instant drinks we’re so used to in our culture, we forget the value of anticipation. It’s not just in the food we eat either. We want instant entertainment and instant gratification too. I want to concentrate on enjoying the anticipation. Unfortunately, my tendencies toward impatience and laziness get in the way all the time.
– I attended my aunt’s wedding this weekend. She is a widow who married a widower who was a close friend of her husband’s. I’m happy for her – this particular aunt has been through more pain than most, having lost 2 sons and a husband. A wedding like that takes on a whole new feeling, though, when you have been to a similar wedding where your own mother got married. I think I know a little bit about how their children are feeling. You want so badly for your parents to be happy, and yet you want to stomp your foot on the floor like a four-year-old and whine.
– I taught another leadership workshop this weekend. We’ve been working through the Leadership Challenge, and this session was on “Inspire a Shared Vision”. Someone asked “don’t you think it’s true that it’s virtually impossible to truly give birth to a fully formed vision without stepping away from day to day life for awhile?” Yes, I think that’s absolutely true. Just like giving birth to a child, our dreams need to be given time to emerge, even though the birth might be painful. When I was a young child in school, I used to get reprimanded for daydreaming now and then. Now, here I am, teaching a leadership workshop, encouraging adult participants to step away for awhile and do exactly that – daydream. Take THAT, Mrs. S – my daydreaming WASN’T just a waste of time!
– In preparation for the workshop, I re-read parts of The Path, a book about creating your personal mission statement and vision. I first read through that book and did some of the exercises it suggests about a year and a half ago. One of the exercises was to write “a day in the life” of yourself five years in the future. The author says she is always amazed how many people who do that end up very near to their vision five years later. When I re-read my own last week, I was pleasantly surprised that some of my vision has begun to come true. Facilitating this workshop on the weekend was one of the things I’d written in the vision, and in the past year, I’ve gotten to do several of them for a variety of groups.
– My sister bought a house this weekend. Their househunting process has caused me to reflect on why we ended up in our house. It is far from our “dream” house, but I have come to love it none-the-less. When I was crossing the street toward our house this morning, I had a little memory of the first sighting of this house and why I was drawn to it. We have massive trees all around the house. When they are in the majesty of full foliage (like now, which is right around the time of year we first saw it), the house (an average-sized bungalow) looks dwarfed in the middle. I kinda like that – it makes the creation of man look so insignificant when completely overshadowed by nature.
– A few years ago, I facilitated an eight week workshop on unleashing your creativity. It was one of the best, most inspired experiences I’ve ever had. More than one of the participants has told me that it has had a profound impact on their lives since. This weekend, one of those people released her first cd, and she told me that she would never have done it if she hadn’t taken my workshop. She said it had “given her permission to create”. Hearing that statement made me realize that I have a longing to do it again. I think I need to make that happen.
– Marcel had to prepare a presentation for his class this morning. As part of the presentation, he included 2 video clips showing positive and negative classroom management styles. We set up a “film studio” in our dining room – Marcel played the teacher, Nikki, Julie, and Julie’s friend played the students, I was the videographer, Maddie was my helper, and we all had a hoot!
