Every Happy Family is the Same...

so i stole that from a book. if anyone can figure out what it is from, you win a cookie. i am expecting miriam to be the prize winner...again.

for those of you who do not know me, i have a tendency to not use proper grammar when i write. this is a habit i picked up while in high school; this is what happens when you fall in love with e.e. cummings at a young age, i suppose. and i am a big fan of using british english.

now that i have explained that...

my lovely wife informed me tonight she has had numerous ideas of things to write about. but, now that we have this shared blog, she has decided to keep her thoughts private. so our story has now been left to a one-sided hypocritical egotist. (okay, not really)
our little man has become quite the screamer. his demeanour is very simple; he is calm when he is sleeping, and not so calm when he wants something. although, as of late, he has discovered how to keep himself occupied by staring at the owl mobile. i have noticed that kim and i have different ideas on how to handle the latter. this has caused a few spats between us, but i suppose that that is normal when it comes to raising a child. i cannot wait until seamus is older. that should be interesting, what, with the two of us being so damn stubborn. at least we can see the humour in this.

kim asked about the title of my first entry, "we all feel ashamed..."
i got to thinking about it again last night and i realised, that yes it is true, i was feeling ashamed. i mentioned the spats between kim and me; i feel ashamed, because i do not always apologise. when it's my fault, even when i am not the antagonist, i tend to take some time to get away from the disagreement and think it over, but i do not always come back and say 'honey, i am sorry.'
i feel ashamed sometimes because i hide from the things that scare me. i hide from my feelings that i have about my family. i feel ashamed because i do not kiss my beautiful wife every day. i feel ashamed that i have a short temper. i feel ashamed that i am quick to judge, that i am quick to to lend a deaf ear. i feel ashamed that i do not always have a conversation with God. i feel ashamed i do not really tell people many things about myself or about my thoughts or feelings. i feel ashamed that i am quick to guard my heart, and that i lack trust in others. these are all things that i hope to work on. i am sure that parts of that list will be easy, and others not so much. but my goal is to start from the bottom and work my way up. i am proud to say, that through God, all these things will be overcome....

seamus just stared crying, my train of thought went away, and i am sure i just made a long rambling thought, that didn't translate well to words....

Forgetful Minds Need Reminding

I have this urge to explain where I am, in terms of my relationship with God...
I was not raised to have any one faith, er, I was raised to believe in God; the Christian God. My mother was always very up front with letting me be able to choose what I wanted to believe; with this freedom I ultimately choose not to believe when I was fifteen. I do not fully understand my reasoning even to this day, but it something along these lines:

I was a sophomore in high school, and at that time in my life, I had no real idea what God was, other than the idea of the Christmas god. My former wrestling coach was (is) a born again Christian and led a local group of my peers in FCA. Seeing as how I could be around my friends more, and at that same time, further my knowledge of this god-figure, I eagerly joined in. As I attended more and more meetings, I found myself joyfully accepting the idea of Christ as my saviour. And then the whole idea of a merciful God came crashing down. Literally. The local FCA conference I was gleefully attending came to an abrupt halt when it was announced that, much to Huskernation disbelief, Brooke Berringer, the key note speaker, was killed in a plane crash. On his way to the event. I was crushed! How could a loving God take someone who was supposed to come tell his story of how he found God?! And the conference become a memorial to the quarterback. I know all of this sounds childish, but I was after all, only fifteen. ( please no jokes referring to Rilo Kiley) Fast forward about eightish years... after a period of being a proud atheist, then an apathetic agnostic, I came to believe that if I were truly meant to believe in God, then by some miracle, He would show Himself to me. And He did. After meeting numerous people all at once, including my future wife, who were saved; these people eagerly trying to convert me, I decided to give the Book another look. And that brings me to today, April 26, 2010.

I have traveled a wondrous journey. At twenty eight, I have decided that there is so much more than what I have been introduced to. I cannot seem to find a church, or for that matter a denomination, that I can truly say feels right. That is until reading the wonderful book, Anna Karenina. I was exposed to so much more than an adulterous romantic. The book is full of religious connotations. And, not understanding Russia in the late 1800's, I was very thankful for the end notes in the novel. Throughout the tale, Eastern Orthodox was paramount. And I realised, that this is the same religion that my friends were learning about, in person, through their journey to Christmation in the Orthodox Church. This is the church that I have come to realise can possibly fulfill my desire for a rich tradition in Christendom. One that is lacking in other Christian faiths. This is the church that I want to attend with all of my heart. And I am proud to state that.

But, I have yet to attend even one service. The end of Kim's pregnancy coincided with my new found desire. Then the birth of Seamus; then the news about Seamus having milk soy protein intolerance (MSPI); then Holy week (my thoughts being that it is such a big deal, that I would not want to jump into The Church during the holiest of holy times).

And now it is two weeks after Pascha. Pentecost is upon us, and the desire to attend is still burning bright. I keep telling myself, that we will make it Sunday. And you know what? We will.

We all feel ashamed, sometimes every day.

Waking up this morning brought a smile to my face. Seamus was chirping like a bird, as he often does. The only down side is the weather. We need the rain, but it makes it so dreary out.

After struggling with Kim about how to strip our FuzziBunz diapers, we finally came to the conclusion that we can, after all, wash all 25 at once. A day filled with washing and rewashing. On the lighter side, as I type this story, Seamus is laying in his bouncy seat all calm and content. This is only the start of the day, so we will see if somehow it stays this nice.

We have had problems lately of our little man screaming and screaming. Nothing has seemed to work to calm him down, other than time itself. I might have figured out that if I place him in his bouncy seat at the first sounds of his crying, he will fall asleep... sometimes.

Well, seeing as how it is still so early in the day, I haven't much more to say, except, stay tuned...