Emotional Eating

In my twenties, I spent more time at my grandparents' house than your average, single globe-trotter. Their home in Arizona was one of the few places I could go for respite. I'd float around with my grandma at the pool, go golfing with my grandpa, and 'visit'. I'd come with a belly full of cookies ready to throw myself back into my uncertain world of trying to find a career and a life partner.

Important side note: This blog wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for my grandparents. My grandpa was one of the few people who encouraged my writing. As my adoring blog readers know, the writing itself isn't my forte. Voice is strong - yes. Photos are on point - thanks Paul! But punctuation, etc - I mean can you even use a '-' like that? 

Back to the point, my grandpa once made a comment about how one day "I might be writing about my life." I don't remember the context but it was a vote a confidence because writing has never been something at which I was naturally gifted. (See, I didn't end that sentence with a preposition. But was it wordy? yes.) 

I started the blog as a single person, took a long break once coupled, and didn't start again until covid. My grandma was locked down, like most grandparents, so I fired back up the blog in an attempt to entertain her. I started posting every week or so. After I had 3-4 posts, I'd print them off, maybe add some kid art, and send them to her in the mail. 

Now my grandma is in her last days. My dad just showed her the last little Biggs' masterpieces I sent. In my current 'happy chaos', I won't be able to make it to say goodbye while she is still alive or likely even attend any kind of memorial. So I'm coping in a way she would approve - baking cookies.

I'm using "her" recipe. Which is to say, one day while visiting Arizona I asked her for her recipe. She told me to go into the kitchen and grab the chocolate chips. Yup, she used the recipe right on the back of the yellow package all those years. Toll House Original 

My kitchen helper was happy to do a run to the grocery store across the street for butter:

It never gets old living in a place where you can give your illiterate seven-year old 20 bucks and ask him to come back with butter and some tea. Hugo: "I can't reach the tea. I'll just ask someone to get me a package with the tree logo that says 'black'."

Once he got home, he got totally distracted taking apart our broken vacuum cleaner. 

But he'd done his part.

Crosby was happy to take over once some other "power tools" were involved:

I made a triple batch with the intention of using cookies as my 'ticket' in the door to see a new baby brother born to Carmen's bestie. Also, we currently have no heating in our building - again - so running the oven helps. My neighbor Val came over to bring homemade brown sugar and help me mix the dough after I sent her this picture to show my awesome spacial reasoning skills.

Triple batch was still a good life choice even if the mixing was a challenge.

This is the point in the post where I should put a photo of happy kids with chocolate all over their faces. But this post, just like grieving, is incomplete. I'll leave you with one of my favorite photos of my Grandma giving me the "something borrowed" on the happiest day of my life.

I love you Grandma. I'll miss you.

Book Report: Everybody Fights

There is so much fighting at Casa Biggs. It's mostly between the kids and me with Robin playing the roll as International Peace Observer. 

The littles are going to be crushed when she leaves in a couple weeks.

The good news is that all three little Biggs have no problem expressing their emotions or communicating their wants. The bad news - well, it is a lot for my only-child peacemaker husband. I'm exasperated, "why can't you get in the fight?" and he's more, "how do we live in peace?". The truth is, contrary to the title of this book, not everybody fights. 

Some, ahem enneagram nines, just avoid conflicts all together. But, fighting is my love language. (half joking) As an enneagram eight, if you aren't challenging me - it doesn't really seem like you're in the game. And so, I read this book in an effort to glean some skills for how to get Paul to fight with me in a way that might be more palatable for him.

The book emphasizes some of the classic relationship conflict advice. Wait for everyone to cool down after the fight to discuss.  Practice active listening - "this is what I heard you say...". Don't tell anyone to "calm down" - instead kindly acknowledge that "this is hard". There are also more gems disclosed during entertaining audiobook banter. These are the top three take-aways that I'd like to employ with my sparring partners:

1. Treat your partner as you would an (American) stranger. 

In Berlin people just give each other questioning stairs. But in the US you make eye contact, greet the person, and maybe even exchange a compliment. I'm often so distracted that I don't do this properly with my people. Also, I've decided after another morning of bleary-eyed stare downs with Berlin strangers, I'm just going to start greeting people on the street. 

"Good day fellow Berliner! Yes, my child is asleep in my bike on-top of a bunch of ballon animals."

2. Tell me more - the new magic words

I get frustrated with Paul that he doesn't tell me what he wants. One of the traits of the enneagram nine is they are generally fine with anything. Don't bother asking where they want to go to dinner. As an eight, I should be happy about getting my way. But I'm mostly just confused - how do you really not know what you want? Nevertheless, when Paul does tell me something he wants, I am too quick to shoot it down. Mostly it's because the idea often adds more work for me. However, if I really want to understand what he wants then I need to ask him to "tell me more".  

3. Make your 'thank yous' more specific

Many days - as Paul as heading out the door - I say, "Thanks for making the monies." But the book recommends mentioning the specific sacrifice the person made and the benefit to you. So I will add, "I appreciate that you work hard so I can stay home blogging and napping off my oncoming cold." Speaking of which, I need to get on today's second goal. Carmen can't have all the fun. 

Book Report: ADHD for Smart Ass Women

Listen-up my ADHD ladies, I'm about to potentially save you 7.5 hours of your life with a simple flow chart based on the premise of this famous Atlantic article.

This book starts out like a first online date. You know you're interested from the pictures/cover. The date starts out well - you have things in common. Then you start realizing you see the world through different eyes. It's not going to work out. 

This is the book my mom would have written about her experience with ADHD (if she could sit still long enough to write). You can do it all - the family, the career, the creative side hustles. Your ADHD is your super power. Sure, neurotypical folks can effortlessly get their kids to preschool on time but you can hyper focus. Yes, our relationships are more dysfunctional but we're more "fun". True, meetings are ten times more boring for you than your colleagues but use your extra creativity to make a world where meetings don't exist.

Here was my big take-home from this book: "ADHD women typically do better outside the home because there they have structure and intellectual stimulation". Ruh Roh. 

But what if working outside the home, for a myriad of reasons, isn't an option? Well, we do what us ADHD smart ass women have always done. We try harder than our neurotypical peers while looking and feeling like this most days:

OMG Paige - what's happened to you? This doesn't sound like your optimistic - also a trait of ADHD - self? Not to worry, I haven't hit any new kind of bottom. It's just more of the same realization that my self worth or adequacy has nothing to do with what I can do and everything to do with being loved by God. I don't know why I, and at least one of my kids, inherited ADHD. I'm not going to put any "for such a time as this" spin on the current state of affairs.

During Robin's bedtime devotional, I was reminded of this quote by Mother Teresa, "We can do not great things, only small things with great love. What is important is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it." Which, incidentally, is a blend of my two top character strengths that I discovered through the book's suggested online questionnaire. My top strength was love followed by spirituality. These are strengths I get to use everyday in chaos management. And when it gets too much, a little well timed self care is in order.

Cucumber eye mask + sleep = super hero level recovery

Book Report: The Hating Game

The Hating Game is the last romance novel I'll read for the forseable future. I want to spend more time catching-up with friends and/or reading biographies. Ideally I'll also be spending more time with Paul once he wraps this big project on Thursday. Generally, I need less escape in my life and more commitment to making my life more manageable. 

That being said, The Hating Game was a fun end of a reading era. Only in romance novels do the men live at the gym and spend more time on their appearance than women. Oh, true fantasy. 

This is what real life looks like these days:

Hugo is a school kid! Complete with Schultüte. 

Most days Hugo and Cros take the tram together, but when we went to Hugo's first day celebration we rolled deep...

And faded fast...

Our littlest dude turns seven tomorrow. 

It's been a wild ride.

Book Report: Funny Story

After our first positive Corona test, I knew I was going to need something to get through the days ahead. Thankfully, the PDX library delivered this gem just in time.

I liked Emily Henry's Beach Read and People We Meet on Vacation but I enjoyed Funny Story more. I found the characters much more relatable and generally less annoying. These are romance novels staring millennials after all, so one has to accept some of the quirks associated with the special snowflake generation. 

The book got me through the rolling positive corona tests happening every two days. We were 5 for 5. I tested positive on my birthday. Also on my birthday, a louse jumped out of Paul's hair. So, this book got me through hours of changing and washing sheets while Paul spent hours combing our hair.  It was a memroble birthday to say the least.

But I'm grateful that we got over covid soon enough for Crosby to do his favorite art camp, Hugo to start school, and Carmen to follow around her new favorite person. 

Thankfully Robin came recently recovered and fully boosted. She's going to need all the immunity she can get.

Book Report: Searching for Sunday

One of the many things I love about our church is the "old-school" paper church program every Sunday. In an ideal world, every Monday following the service I go through and look up all the German words I don’t know. While reading over the program a few months ago, I saw a quote from one of my favorite authors from one of her books that I hadn’t yet read.

Listening to anything by Rachel Held Evans feels like a phone call home to a dear friend. Sometimes the time zones don't line-up or the kids are sick so I listen to the audio books of the friend I wish I had. I've enjoyed all of her books, and this is no different. It was especially sweet to finish her book while walking a mini "Camino de Brandenburgo" - Bad Belzig to Hagelberg. 

Forest Art Walk

While waiting at the bus stop to go back to Kiki's and my airbnb, a friendly woman offered to drive me back to town. Nothing like a little hitch-hiking to feel young again. 

This actual birthday is shaping up to be less eventful than last, as Hugo tested positive for Covid yesterday. But thankfully I celebrated early this year. I got my birthday dance a whole month before with my friend Amaya. 

 One Tom's heal changed to a flat on the way out the door. But no wardrobe malfunction would stop us.

I drank sangria with my Bible Study girls a couple days after dancing. Two weeks ago, Kiki and I spent four glorious days watching Olympics, catching up, and getting some work done (her) while I walked through the forest.

Seen here walking to a hot springs/sauna. 

Last week, Paul's parents sponsored a family adventure to Innsbruck. 

The "Growly Bear". It was great on a Beckley family vacation in 1988 and now Biggs in 2024.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. It's another mom-tastic birthday with these super-spreaders.

Book Report: Breath

Me to Ashley: “Have you read the book Breath?”

Ashley: “Yes, I liked it.”

Connor: “I read the sequel.”

Ladies: “Oh?”

Connor: “It’s called fart.”

So yeah, has fatherhood changed Connor? Nope, he’s still got the zingers in addition to an adorable squishy lady who just turned one. No photo rights so enjoy this photo of Cros on his first birthday. 

So back to farting, I mean breathing. Really, a whole book on breath? Well the book is a lot of vignettes about different stories about breathing in sports, yoga, medicine, etc. If you like science, medicine, and good writing it’s an interesting read. But, if you’re short on time skip to the last pages and he’ll give you the seven points you need to know. 

If you’re really short on time I’ll tell you the most important message: breathe through your nose. There’s a bunch of ways to do this, but one way is taping your mouth at night. So Paul and I have added one more spicy step to the bedtime routine - tape at 10 pm.

Do we feel more rested? I mean, we look pretty good.