This morning has been one of the more challenging for me in recent memory. Following are some of the elements contributing to the excitement at the Tayler house this morning:
Refusal to go to school
Tantrums
Stopped-up kitchen sink filled with the contents of my dispos-all.
More tantrums and refusals
When I break it down like that, it seems really easy! Of course--if I stop to remember that on such a morning, it is obscenely rare that all three children are happy all of the time, and that I was trying to work on a time-sensitive project that requires a good amount of focus--I remember why I was struggling. It helped that eventually Gabe and Charlie took a nap at the same time, Brian came home to fix the sink, and Lucy eventually agreed to go to school.
Part of this project has involved a search for quotable thoughts on children in general. These are some that stood out for me today:
Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it. ~Not Your Average Dictionary
Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it. ~Harold Hulbert
We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up. ~Christopher Morley
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jones
Children are one third of our population and all of our future. ~Select Panel for the Promotion of Child Health, 1981
There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt
A child seldom needs a good talking to as a good listening to. ~Robert Brault
Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing. ~Phyllis Diller
Anyone who thinks the art of conversation is dead ought to tell a child to go to bed. ~Robert Gallagher
Any kid will run any errand for you if you ask at bedtime. ~Red Skelton
There's nothing that can help you understand your beliefs more than trying to explain them to an inquisitive child. ~Frank A. Clark
If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ~Edgar W. Howe
There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff
Monday, December 12, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
12.02.11 -- Cool Like James Dean
I have a number of talents. Being cool is not one of them. I am way too enthusiastic to ever be truly cool. I can be quirky and funny and fantastic, lovable and maybe even lovely, but never truly cool.
It's okay. I've come to terms with it.
And don't get me wrong--I like cool people, the world might be less interesting without cool people--I just think that being cool and enthusiastic are mutually exclusive. I think being cool would be boring. But, hey, I've never tried it. I wouldn't know.
And how, you may ask, would a person start thinking about something like the mutual exclusivity of coolness and enthusiasm?
Lucy said to me the other day, "Mom, am I just like Dad when he was little?" She continued, hopefully, "I am crazy, right, and I'm always doing stuff like he did, right?"
Undoubtably, Lucy was thinking of the many times we have tried to understand Gabe's tendencies by comparing him with his dad at his age. This leads to comments like, "He finds every corner and leads with his head."
I had to think for a minute before I answered Lucy. I told her that she is a lot like her dad, but she is also like me in a lot of ways, and in some ways she is just like herself. She was pretty disappointed. I didn't have the heart to elaborate... Because hey, who doesn't want to be like their fantastic, super cool daddy? She doesn't "lead with her head" as much as Gabe does. She is enthusiastic around people in a way that feels very familiar. Gabe is enthusiastic, too.... Anyway. I'm splitting hairs.
Happy Holidays to all of the cool people who happen to read this, and to all of the enthusiastic people, too.
It's okay. I've come to terms with it.
And don't get me wrong--I like cool people, the world might be less interesting without cool people--I just think that being cool and enthusiastic are mutually exclusive. I think being cool would be boring. But, hey, I've never tried it. I wouldn't know.
And how, you may ask, would a person start thinking about something like the mutual exclusivity of coolness and enthusiasm?
Lucy said to me the other day, "Mom, am I just like Dad when he was little?" She continued, hopefully, "I am crazy, right, and I'm always doing stuff like he did, right?"
Undoubtably, Lucy was thinking of the many times we have tried to understand Gabe's tendencies by comparing him with his dad at his age. This leads to comments like, "He finds every corner and leads with his head."
I had to think for a minute before I answered Lucy. I told her that she is a lot like her dad, but she is also like me in a lot of ways, and in some ways she is just like herself. She was pretty disappointed. I didn't have the heart to elaborate... Because hey, who doesn't want to be like their fantastic, super cool daddy? She doesn't "lead with her head" as much as Gabe does. She is enthusiastic around people in a way that feels very familiar. Gabe is enthusiastic, too.... Anyway. I'm splitting hairs.
Happy Holidays to all of the cool people who happen to read this, and to all of the enthusiastic people, too.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
11.08.2011 -- Being Mormon
Mormons have been in the news a lot lately. Of course, everything is relative, but...well, they have. It makes me want to add my two cents.
Every once in a blue moon, someone I care about who is unfamiliar with the LDS faith will ask me about it. I bungle it every time. The problem is that it is such a deep part of me that I struggle to find a starting point and any kind of linear thinking that explains it well. What ends up happening is sort of like trying to show someone an enormous map in the dark using a couple of flashlights. Some people are very good at articulating this kind of thing. I have never felt comfortable talking about it with people who are not of my faith.
Isn't that sad?
I remember a "discussion" about Mormonism I had with a loved one years ago. It actually sort of wounded me. Suffice to say that "faith" is not an action word in this person's life. I think that if "faith" were to appear in a personal dictionary, this person would add a footnote: see Naive, Gullible, Stupid.
Maybe this is one reason why I am so reluctant to talk candidly about the role faith has in my life. I never want to feel that way again. Actually, I do talk about faith--with people I think will understand. I don't put myself out there much, though.
I find it hard to separate myself from a third-person kind of view that alerts me to things that sound strange. Sort of like...Oh. "About two-thousand years ago, a baby boy was born to a virgin. He was the only son of God. He lived a perfect life, then was killed, but rose from the dead. Because of this, us mortals have a chance to spend the rest of time in heaven. Without Jesus, we wouldn't stand a snowball's chance."
What a ridiculous story!! And yet, I am not alone in this world when I say that the truth of this story is a cornerstone in my life. There are millions and millions of us who believe. There are millions of us who hold the Bible to be a sacred text. Sort of a looong letter from God (as told to prophets) to men and women, pointing us in the right direction.
The story of Joseph Smith, the restoration of Christ's church, and the Book of Mormon are equally important to me. They make just as much sense. But to tell you the truth, my own faith, if dissected, would show itself to be made up mostly of day-to-day happenings at my home, in my community, in the world, at church or through modern LDS publications (publication, revelation). If you can believe in a god or gods...if you can believe that God cared enough to let His Only Begotten Son suffer life and death on earth, why is it a stretch to believe that he cares enough now to provide guidance today?
To say faith is personal is too little, I think. I also think that it is possible that for some people, it might be painful in some way for me to talk about the role of faith in my life, but I really don't know. This faith has always been part of who I am. It brings goodness to my life. Every time I act as a better Mormon, I act as a better person: more kind, more willing to serve, more willing to share, more patient, more faithful, more understanding, more proactive, more truthful, more loving. More Mormon. I will always be human--I make mistakes every day. But I feel like I'm headed in the right direction.
If you find yourself wanting to know more about Mormonism, go to this site. You know those Mormon Messages? Those are propaganda, but they're honest and they're accurate. Most Mormons I know actually try to walk the walk. Those Mormon Messages are a good window into my Mormon soul. If you want to know more, then go to local meetings on Sunday, spend time with Mormons, meet with some LDS missionaries. ...Or I could try to explain it to you. Just turn off the lights and give me a couple of flashlights.
Every once in a blue moon, someone I care about who is unfamiliar with the LDS faith will ask me about it. I bungle it every time. The problem is that it is such a deep part of me that I struggle to find a starting point and any kind of linear thinking that explains it well. What ends up happening is sort of like trying to show someone an enormous map in the dark using a couple of flashlights. Some people are very good at articulating this kind of thing. I have never felt comfortable talking about it with people who are not of my faith.
Isn't that sad?
I remember a "discussion" about Mormonism I had with a loved one years ago. It actually sort of wounded me. Suffice to say that "faith" is not an action word in this person's life. I think that if "faith" were to appear in a personal dictionary, this person would add a footnote: see Naive, Gullible, Stupid.
Maybe this is one reason why I am so reluctant to talk candidly about the role faith has in my life. I never want to feel that way again. Actually, I do talk about faith--with people I think will understand. I don't put myself out there much, though.
I find it hard to separate myself from a third-person kind of view that alerts me to things that sound strange. Sort of like...Oh. "About two-thousand years ago, a baby boy was born to a virgin. He was the only son of God. He lived a perfect life, then was killed, but rose from the dead. Because of this, us mortals have a chance to spend the rest of time in heaven. Without Jesus, we wouldn't stand a snowball's chance."
What a ridiculous story!! And yet, I am not alone in this world when I say that the truth of this story is a cornerstone in my life. There are millions and millions of us who believe. There are millions of us who hold the Bible to be a sacred text. Sort of a looong letter from God (as told to prophets) to men and women, pointing us in the right direction.
The story of Joseph Smith, the restoration of Christ's church, and the Book of Mormon are equally important to me. They make just as much sense. But to tell you the truth, my own faith, if dissected, would show itself to be made up mostly of day-to-day happenings at my home, in my community, in the world, at church or through modern LDS publications (publication, revelation). If you can believe in a god or gods...if you can believe that God cared enough to let His Only Begotten Son suffer life and death on earth, why is it a stretch to believe that he cares enough now to provide guidance today?
To say faith is personal is too little, I think. I also think that it is possible that for some people, it might be painful in some way for me to talk about the role of faith in my life, but I really don't know. This faith has always been part of who I am. It brings goodness to my life. Every time I act as a better Mormon, I act as a better person: more kind, more willing to serve, more willing to share, more patient, more faithful, more understanding, more proactive, more truthful, more loving. More Mormon. I will always be human--I make mistakes every day. But I feel like I'm headed in the right direction.
If you find yourself wanting to know more about Mormonism, go to this site. You know those Mormon Messages? Those are propaganda, but they're honest and they're accurate. Most Mormons I know actually try to walk the walk. Those Mormon Messages are a good window into my Mormon soul. If you want to know more, then go to local meetings on Sunday, spend time with Mormons, meet with some LDS missionaries. ...Or I could try to explain it to you. Just turn off the lights and give me a couple of flashlights.
Monday, November 7, 2011
11.07.2011 -- Degrees of Success
Happy 10 month birthday to my sweet Charlie. He had a rough night last night. Thank goodness I have a husband who helps me.
After trying to change my diet on Friday and failing by eating all kinds of sugar and treats, I needed to figure out something that would work for me. With a little thought, I figured out that trying to cut out so many problem foods (sugar addiction, anyone?) AND trying to keep calories in check was making me panic a little bit. So I decided that for the first bit, I would eat veggies, fruits, meat, nuts, but i wouldn't worry about how much I ate.
So far, so good! Saturday and Sunday have been good. I was expecting to get a headache sometime because I have in the past. It didn't set in until last night. I still have it, but I know it won't last forever.
Last night for dinner, we had turkey, butternut squash, pesto and green beans. This morning for breakfast, I had turkey, butternut squash and pesto. Pretty soon here, I will make myself a yummy shake with banana and berries and spinach, protein powder and soy milk.
It's amazing how you are able to notice the natural sweetness in food when you cut out sugar. Fruit is sweet, of course, but almonds are, too.
On Saturday, Charlie and I went to Logan to have a wedding dress party with lots of family for my cousin, Becca. We brought our wedding dresses and she tried them on, then we headed out to some local shops so she could try on other styles. Totally fun. I STILL feel grateful to my Aunt Lorna who served yummy salad and delicious minestrone soup that was so, so satisfying. It gave me hope that I could make the change.
After spending the afternoon with that wonderful group of people, I stopped at a shop to see if I could find frames for a project I have in mind. I found two barn wood frames that will work and got them at 60% off. Today I will get sheet metal for them and make them into magnet boards to put in the play area downstairs to satisfy the kids' urge to put stuff up on the walls.
I live such a glamorous life.
After trying to change my diet on Friday and failing by eating all kinds of sugar and treats, I needed to figure out something that would work for me. With a little thought, I figured out that trying to cut out so many problem foods (sugar addiction, anyone?) AND trying to keep calories in check was making me panic a little bit. So I decided that for the first bit, I would eat veggies, fruits, meat, nuts, but i wouldn't worry about how much I ate.
So far, so good! Saturday and Sunday have been good. I was expecting to get a headache sometime because I have in the past. It didn't set in until last night. I still have it, but I know it won't last forever.
Last night for dinner, we had turkey, butternut squash, pesto and green beans. This morning for breakfast, I had turkey, butternut squash and pesto. Pretty soon here, I will make myself a yummy shake with banana and berries and spinach, protein powder and soy milk.
It's amazing how you are able to notice the natural sweetness in food when you cut out sugar. Fruit is sweet, of course, but almonds are, too.
On Saturday, Charlie and I went to Logan to have a wedding dress party with lots of family for my cousin, Becca. We brought our wedding dresses and she tried them on, then we headed out to some local shops so she could try on other styles. Totally fun. I STILL feel grateful to my Aunt Lorna who served yummy salad and delicious minestrone soup that was so, so satisfying. It gave me hope that I could make the change.
After spending the afternoon with that wonderful group of people, I stopped at a shop to see if I could find frames for a project I have in mind. I found two barn wood frames that will work and got them at 60% off. Today I will get sheet metal for them and make them into magnet boards to put in the play area downstairs to satisfy the kids' urge to put stuff up on the walls.
I live such a glamorous life.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
11.03.2011 -- Scared Out of my Mind
*Gabe just told me that he wanted to "lip hug" me. He came very close and gave me a little smack on the lips while I was sitting at the computer.*Fun fact about me: the degree to which I am responsible for an outcome personally, is inevitably proportionate to the degree of anxiety I experience leading up to said outcome. So why am I scared tonight?
Because ambition has raised it's ugly head and I am actually making a goal.
I want to drop a few pounds. I want to clean up my diet in order to look and feel better. After all, I am only getting older, chubbier...and so far, I have not seen any study that has proven cookie dough and cheese to make people healthier and happier. (Reality check: I do not eat only these things. If I did, I'm pretty sure my situation would be much, much worse than it is.)
Why now? I have all kinds of great examples to choose from. Brian is one. He has done an amazing job of eating better and exercising consistently, and it shows--not only physically. My dad is another wonderful example. He has endured his fair share of jokes about being a "rabbit," but If I could magically graft his diet into my own life, I would be ecstatic.
The latest example is a little off-the-wall, which is why it is garnering the attention of so many people around the world. A guy named Drew has gained 70 pounds in six months. Drew lives in Utah, has a job and a wife and two kids. He has "always been fit" and works as a personal trainer in addition to his normal gig as a neuromonitoring technician (responsible for monitoring a patient’s nervous system during back surgery). According to Drew, he tried to empathize with and understand his overweight clients, but he really couldn't. It always came down to, "You don't know what it's like to be overweight and trying to change your diet." This was the seed of Fit2Fat2Fit.
He is now ready to begin his journey from fat to fit by eating the right foods at the right times and exercising about an hour a day. If you didn't click on that link, do it now or soon. It's virtual rubbernecking...just can't not look at the damage this guy has done to his awesome physique in the name of compassion and inspiration...but it's rubbernecking with a cause! You may just get inspired!
Anyway, that commitment to change has me a little scared right now. I feel like I'm terrible at following through, so I avoid making commitments. I tell myself that this is to preserve the integrity of the really important stuff in my life, like my family. I have a whole theory about it. If you have a few hours to kill, let me know and I'll give you the full version. It might be a lot of bunk, or it may not. Time will tell, my friends. Time will tell!
So if I see you soon, and you offer me a doughnut, and I decline--just know that I'm working on being an adult: following through on a commitment, working toward a goal. My pantry and fridge are now stocked with all kinds of goodness. If you are really interested in what exactly, check out the shopping list here. Spinach shakes, people! Just FYI, I have blended and consumed my share of spinach shakes, but it has been a few months.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
011.01.2011 -- Funny You Should Say That...
Lucy: "Pioneers lived a long time ago in ancient times, the eighties."
Lucy: "Mom, can I take these electric candles down to my room and turn off the lights and make it dark and pretend that I'm... poor?"
It makes me a little sad to think that one day, I will have to drag details out of Lucy. She doesn't always offer many details about school or playing with her friends, but I still can get full-fleshed six-year-old thoughts out of her, and I love it.
So, if anyone needs Lucy right now, she is down in her room with the lights off using electric candles to look at her Halloween candy, pretending that she's poor.
Lucy: "Mom, can I take these electric candles down to my room and turn off the lights and make it dark and pretend that I'm... poor?"
It makes me a little sad to think that one day, I will have to drag details out of Lucy. She doesn't always offer many details about school or playing with her friends, but I still can get full-fleshed six-year-old thoughts out of her, and I love it.
So, if anyone needs Lucy right now, she is down in her room with the lights off using electric candles to look at her Halloween candy, pretending that she's poor.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
10.27.2011 -- A Real Woman
A few months ago, when I had noticeably dropped baby weight, Lucy looked at me and asked me to suck in my tummy. I did and she looked at me approvingly. "Yeah," she said. "Now you look like a real woman!"
If I were a real woman, my neighbors would never drop by and find breakfast still in the kitchen at 3 o'clock. My home would be spotless, dishes in the dishwasher or the cupboard, food in the fridge or the cupboard, not mouldering on the counter.
If I were a real woman, I would view my entire closet as wearable--not shun specific items because they show off my muffin top. Tee shirts would not be a viable option unless they were cute and girlie. I would be perpetually fresh and pink...like a rose.
If I were a real woman, I would have clean windows all of the time, dog and small children notwithstanding. I would never raise my voice and my poor, lucky husband would be at my beck and call...totally whipped and powerless before my whims.
At least some of the time I can make myself look like a real woman!
Maybe a "real woman" could have gotten her two-year-old dressed before one p.m. today. Not me. I'm just an imposter with a kid who (apparently) has a very limited choice of clothes which are not "weird." We honestly had to wait for the wash to process his "My Dad Rocks!!" shirt. The previously acceptable "Monster Dunk (you better watch out!)" shirt is no longer acceptable.
I keep wondering if I should just clear out all of the clothes he says are "weird." It would leave him with about four shirts and four pair of pants. But then, I think... what if it just gets worse and he selects a subgroup of these clothes? I purposely don't have all of his favorites clean all of the time, because I want him to branch out. Maybe for some people this would fall into the "Pick Your Battles" section of Parenting 101. I don't know. He doesn't wear about 80% of his clothes, and 90% of his clothes are hand-me-downs. Of course, like anyone, he's more tractable when his mood isn't spoiled by being tired or hungry or cold or hot, so he does branch out. Just not very often.
What would a real woman do? Have him pick out 5 shirts and 5 pants and pack the rest away for Charlie?
Speaking of Charlie!
He has his third tooth coming through and the fourth is just behind it. He's walking now about as much as he is crawling when he's hanging out, but if he really needs to get somewhere, he crawls. Bedtime might be his favorite time of the day, because his siblings hold still long enough for him to maul them. We have been comparing Charlie to a zombie for a long time because he lurches toward faces and tries to eat them. He also eats toes. He likes bikes and wheels and shoes and the dishwasher. He still has a little Jack-Jack separation anxiety when I leave him, but (I think) it's getting better.
Lucy has a little piano romance going on. She thinks it's cool and will go "practice." I taught her the names of the keys and taught her basic fingering. She likes to play chords and do modified scales. She is still liking gymnastics a lot. She's getting ready right now for a fun meet in November, so is practicing her routines in class. I don't see her practicing a lot at home. Although Lucy goes to gymnastics twice a week, she identifies herself as a soccer player. Her team this year changed their name every game. One week they were the Smurfs, one week the Blue Bats...you get the idea. In the last game of fall, she scored a goal. When she tells the story, she just giggles and shrugs her shoulders and says "I was the only one there, so I kicked it in."
In the last few days, Gabe has had a flip switched. If pressed, I would describe it as an overactive, destructive, slightly violent switch....but hey. No one asked me. He is very interested in jumping on things and leaping onto things and leaping off of things and throwing things and tipping big things over. When I ask him to please be quiet, or calm down, he likes to say, "I don't have to!" Lots of fun! I do feel like I've got one thing on Gabe right now. He hates lotion or cream and although he has very dry skin that gets chapped and needs some kind of help, he will not let me put anything on him. I have taken to putting a little Aquaphor on my fingers and "wrestling" with Gabe. As I wrestle, I smoosh his cheeks and face with the Aquaphor. Pretty sneaky, huh?
Gabe jumping on a chair, dressed in his My Dad Rocks shirt.
It's nice when Lucy is home because Lucy and Gabe are playing well lately. Charlie likes to get in on the action, too. They are good at including him, unless they are riding bikes or scooters or if they are on the trampoline.
A friend described being a parent as 49% torture, 51% pure joy. The percentages can go all sorts of ways but I agree with her. Some things do seem like torture, but the pure joy parts of it make the torture fade back. :) I am happy to say that although some days include some torturous times, I am grateful for my family a million times over. It's hard to imagine life without them.
If I were a real woman, my neighbors would never drop by and find breakfast still in the kitchen at 3 o'clock. My home would be spotless, dishes in the dishwasher or the cupboard, food in the fridge or the cupboard, not mouldering on the counter.
If I were a real woman, I would view my entire closet as wearable--not shun specific items because they show off my muffin top. Tee shirts would not be a viable option unless they were cute and girlie. I would be perpetually fresh and pink...like a rose.
If I were a real woman, I would have clean windows all of the time, dog and small children notwithstanding. I would never raise my voice and my poor, lucky husband would be at my beck and call...totally whipped and powerless before my whims.
At least some of the time I can make myself look like a real woman!
Maybe a "real woman" could have gotten her two-year-old dressed before one p.m. today. Not me. I'm just an imposter with a kid who (apparently) has a very limited choice of clothes which are not "weird." We honestly had to wait for the wash to process his "My Dad Rocks!!" shirt. The previously acceptable "Monster Dunk (you better watch out!)" shirt is no longer acceptable.
I keep wondering if I should just clear out all of the clothes he says are "weird." It would leave him with about four shirts and four pair of pants. But then, I think... what if it just gets worse and he selects a subgroup of these clothes? I purposely don't have all of his favorites clean all of the time, because I want him to branch out. Maybe for some people this would fall into the "Pick Your Battles" section of Parenting 101. I don't know. He doesn't wear about 80% of his clothes, and 90% of his clothes are hand-me-downs. Of course, like anyone, he's more tractable when his mood isn't spoiled by being tired or hungry or cold or hot, so he does branch out. Just not very often.
What would a real woman do? Have him pick out 5 shirts and 5 pants and pack the rest away for Charlie?
Speaking of Charlie!
He has his third tooth coming through and the fourth is just behind it. He's walking now about as much as he is crawling when he's hanging out, but if he really needs to get somewhere, he crawls. Bedtime might be his favorite time of the day, because his siblings hold still long enough for him to maul them. We have been comparing Charlie to a zombie for a long time because he lurches toward faces and tries to eat them. He also eats toes. He likes bikes and wheels and shoes and the dishwasher. He still has a little Jack-Jack separation anxiety when I leave him, but (I think) it's getting better.
Lucy has a little piano romance going on. She thinks it's cool and will go "practice." I taught her the names of the keys and taught her basic fingering. She likes to play chords and do modified scales. She is still liking gymnastics a lot. She's getting ready right now for a fun meet in November, so is practicing her routines in class. I don't see her practicing a lot at home. Although Lucy goes to gymnastics twice a week, she identifies herself as a soccer player. Her team this year changed their name every game. One week they were the Smurfs, one week the Blue Bats...you get the idea. In the last game of fall, she scored a goal. When she tells the story, she just giggles and shrugs her shoulders and says "I was the only one there, so I kicked it in."
In the last few days, Gabe has had a flip switched. If pressed, I would describe it as an overactive, destructive, slightly violent switch....but hey. No one asked me. He is very interested in jumping on things and leaping onto things and leaping off of things and throwing things and tipping big things over. When I ask him to please be quiet, or calm down, he likes to say, "I don't have to!" Lots of fun! I do feel like I've got one thing on Gabe right now. He hates lotion or cream and although he has very dry skin that gets chapped and needs some kind of help, he will not let me put anything on him. I have taken to putting a little Aquaphor on my fingers and "wrestling" with Gabe. As I wrestle, I smoosh his cheeks and face with the Aquaphor. Pretty sneaky, huh?
Gabe jumping on a chair, dressed in his My Dad Rocks shirt.A friend described being a parent as 49% torture, 51% pure joy. The percentages can go all sorts of ways but I agree with her. Some things do seem like torture, but the pure joy parts of it make the torture fade back. :) I am happy to say that although some days include some torturous times, I am grateful for my family a million times over. It's hard to imagine life without them.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
09.22.2011 -- Wisdom is as Wisdom Does
This picture was taken on the way home from Lake Powell.We stopped here with friends to eat and to break up the drive. Good times.
Part of the nighttime routine in our house is reading to the kids. They love it, we love it. Everyone's happy.
One of the things I like about it most is the conversations that arise when we get to a word that the kids aren't familiar with. These past few nights, Lucy and I have talked about wisdom. After trying a couple of different approaches, I explained wisdom this way: being smart about how you act.
"For example," I said, "What if you had a friend and were walking to school, and your friend wanted to walk with someone who you didn't want to walk with, and YOU wanted to walk with someone SHE didn't want to walk with?" (To my knowledge, this scenario hasn't played out, but it's right in line with some of the problems that color Lucy's life as a first grader.)
One of the things I like about it most is the conversations that arise when we get to a word that the kids aren't familiar with. These past few nights, Lucy and I have talked about wisdom. After trying a couple of different approaches, I explained wisdom this way: being smart about how you act.
"For example," I said, "What if you had a friend and were walking to school, and your friend wanted to walk with someone who you didn't want to walk with, and YOU wanted to walk with someone SHE didn't want to walk with?" (To my knowledge, this scenario hasn't played out, but it's right in line with some of the problems that color Lucy's life as a first grader.)
"You could ask anyone what two plus two is, and they could tell you the right answer, but it takes wisdom to figure out how to act when things get tricky."
There have been a couple of things that I've been thinking about lately that might qualify as wisdom.
The first is: the wisdom of casseroles. You might laugh, but it became very clear to me a couple of nights ago when I had chicken burning on the grill, a baby who urgently wanted/needed to be held/changed/fed, a two-year-old who wanted to be read to, and a daughter who needed help with her homework. The kids needed attention, the chicken needed attention, the sauteeing and steaming vegetables needed attention, and I was also trying to get the house cleaned up by telling my kids what to do. You can imagine, maybe, the level of peaceful bliss in the house which enveloped my sweet husband when he walked in the door.
Now, If I'd had a casserole going, the veggies would've been happily nestled next to the chicken, in no danger of getting either burned or overcooked, and ready to serve in the next 5 minutes or the next two hours. It would've been either in the oven or on the table--either way, it wouldn't have mattered because it would have been hot but not burned--and my hands and attention would have been freed to manage everything else.
That was my aha moment. I literally thought, "So this is why casseroles are a staple for moms with small children!" You may be wondering why it took me so long to figure that out. And in response, well... I got nothin'.
My next bit of wisdom is even less impressive: Parks are good.
After Lucy got off to school this morning, I took the boys to a local park. While I watched them play (and played along with them), I started to reflect of the difference between myself as a mother of one, and myself as a mother of three. When Lucy was tiny, I took her on a lot of hikes and a lot of walks. I just loaded her into a frontpack or backpack and took off.
Aside from one memory of her pointing to an especially lovely vista and saying "beautiful day" when she seemed way too young, I'm not sure how she would describe those hikes, but for me, it was wonderful. Wonderful, at least, until it wasn't.
She eventually got tired of riding and wanted to participate more actively. At that point, I would head out to a trail full of hope that I would get some miles in, and Lucy would insist on walking herself. I went from being able to go several miles in a morning to going maybe fifty yards.
So this morning, I found myself enjoying the low expectations of the park and the resultant good vibes. Kids get enough carrot or stick motivation in life, a park is a genius way to let them play as hard or as quietly as they wish.
If you take a child on a hike, poor time management can bite you in the backside. I know, because I has happened to me. In a quest for more time on the trail, I have endured more than one trip down with an exhausted, unhappy child. Contrast that with a park where you go, you play. You play as hard as you want and if you misjudge what ought to be the middle of your session, no one suffers! Genius.
I will still take my kids hiking with me. But, for now, at least--we will be going to more parks than trails.
Tayler news: Charlie has taken a total of three steps so far while I've been watching. He is very competent climbing stairs, but hasn't learned to go down more than one safely. He would not calm down last night until I let him pound on the keyboard (of this computer). He still hasnt cut any teeth, which is pretty new to us. Love that boy.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Summer
We are home from our kids and Mom trip to New Hampshire. What a time. So much fun! So nice to be home with Brian.
A self portrait
Daring (and resigned) chicken with determined boy
Hey!
and...
drumroll!
...we are all still safe and sane!
Now to complete preparations for the school year. There is some arranging left to be done. We came home to a surprise: Brian had painted and assembled Lucy's room! Both Lucy and Gabe now have their own rooms. I just have to find everything a home (some things will be moving to D.I/Goodwill) and go through clothes so I know what we're working with, then, well... Never a dull moment!
A self portrait
Daring (and resigned) chicken with determined boy
Hey!It was a really wonderful trip. I could write a book about it. It would be a very slow-paced book, but there is a market for slow paced books. (I know because I own some.) Highlights of the trip include:
Kids now swim like fish (Lucy without a lifejacket)
Made both blueberry cake and blueberry pie; shared with friends (family)
Outing to the Friendly Farm (with cousins!)
Mini Fair at Petiteborough
Lucy loves tubing (fast), Gabe likes tubing (sort of fast), Charlie likes riding in a boat
Lucy can kayak and canoe
Found 3 newts
Found 5 baby mice
Charlie started to crawl
Lucy lost another tooth
Gabe is now *really* potty trained, and can pee on trees
Ate ice cream at tea time at Toad Hall
Saw two frogs in the frog pond
Dinner and concert at Apple Hill
Sailing in Clown with Uncle Fred
Kids "drove" boats to hearts content
The thrill of fishing (check)
Kids now swim like fish (Lucy without a lifejacket)
Made both blueberry cake and blueberry pie; shared with friends (family)
Outing to the Friendly Farm (with cousins!)
Mini Fair at Petiteborough
Lucy loves tubing (fast), Gabe likes tubing (sort of fast), Charlie likes riding in a boat
Lucy can kayak and canoe
Found 3 newts
Found 5 baby mice
Charlie started to crawl
Lucy lost another tooth
Gabe is now *really* potty trained, and can pee on trees
Ate ice cream at tea time at Toad Hall
Saw two frogs in the frog pond
Dinner and concert at Apple Hill
Sailing in Clown with Uncle Fred
Kids "drove" boats to hearts content
The thrill of fishing (check)
and...
drumroll!
...we are all still safe and sane!
Now to complete preparations for the school year. There is some arranging left to be done. We came home to a surprise: Brian had painted and assembled Lucy's room! Both Lucy and Gabe now have their own rooms. I just have to find everything a home (some things will be moving to D.I/Goodwill) and go through clothes so I know what we're working with, then, well... Never a dull moment!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Oh Yeah
Here's the guy I went to Lake Powell with this month--I think I'm in LOVE!
Did I mention that I've been married to him for 13 years?
Okay, I'll admit that I love him (a lot).
So lucky!
06.29.2011 -- Simple Life
These days, life around here is all about process. For example, it is about getting everyone and everything into the car without breakdowns or break-outs. It's about getting people fed or bathed. It's about learning not to freak out at the prospect of cleaning up a room. Any number of things can pose obstacles to these simple tasks: Poo, injuries, insults, hunger, thirst, distraction, clothing... all of these things can and do complicate life.
Every day, I wake up with a very simple mental list of things I would like to get done, and I work towards that. On my list are things like making beds, reading, doing dishes, making dinner, going to Lucy's Gymnastics class. All very ho hum. But don't let it fool you, it can be very exciting!
Today, Lucy pulled a WWF move on Gabe and (from what I gather) slammed his face into the kitchen counter. Why? Well, short story: She was defending herself. Long story: Gabe requested noodles for lunch. I made noodles for him and for Lucy. After I put the bowls of noodles on the counter and Lucy started to eat hers, Gabe became convinced that Lucy was eating his bowl of noodles and attacked her. He got an ugly goose egg between the eyes and very apologetic sister in return. She even got him a bag of ice. It took him about five minutes to get over it, then he ate his noodles happily beside Lucy.
So, although our lives are pretty simple right now, it doesn't mean things are always simple.
One of my biggest challenges right now is the interaction between Gabe and Lucy. Gabe is tricky. He is busy being independent and taking offense. Lucy has a tendency to set him off by saying or doing something innocently (most of the time it's innocent, anyway). Gabe refuses or protests what Lucy does or says or offers and, in his frustration hurts Lucy by hitting her, biting her, or pushing her. So, it's tricky because it's not her fault that Gabe hurts her, and yet she could prevent it a lot of times by listening to and respecting her 2 year old brother. What to do?
I try to tell Gabe that it's not nice to hit. I tell Lucy that she needs to work on listening to Gabe (he usually says "no" or "don't" before he hurts her), and respond to him like a five year-old, not like a two year-old. We often walk through scenarios after the dust is settled to find a better way to do things. This leaves me satisfied with the resolution most of the time, but won't be surprised if my methods leave them with some sort of scarring that I can't predict.
Something else that drives Gabe to violence (okay, I better re-word that...he just gets a little rough-n-tumble): other family members are too involved with something else (a game, a book, a discussion, a craft) to give him attention. He wants to wrestle or fight, not just watch someone else do something. His solution: get your attention by attacking.
This past week, we have been dealing with pink eye and potty training. When we quarantined ourselves for conjunctivitis, I figured we might as well have a potty party. To kick it off in style, I rented some superhero DVDs and showed them to Gabe. He had been avoiding the potty for a while, but dropped his pants and diaper gladly to watch Superman and Lightning Lad and Saturn Girl. (Lucy didn't complain either.) Gabe also pottied through The Incredibles and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
I am a little reluctant to actually type this out, but I think Gabe is actually potty trained. He has been taking himself to the bathroom for the past few days. There are still accidents, and sometimes he wants to wear a diaper instead of his new Spiderman Underpants, but there is a DEFINITE trend. *Note to self: do not underestimate the power of a toddler being able to choose his or her own bathroom accessories at the store. Gabe got new underwear and a new potty seat.
My greatest joys these days are as simple as my challenges. A little man making a beeline to the bathroom to get his own bum on a toilet, or his fierce hug and sincere "I wuv you, Mom." The light in Lucy's eyes when she finishes reading a book all by herself or how she confidently cares for her brothers. Connecting with the awesome person-in-miniature that is Charlie or just holding his perfect little body as he sleeps.
I.love.these.kids. Life is good.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
05.11.2011 -- MotivIncentive
This costume is the carrot I am dangling in front of Gabe for potty training. We'll see if it works.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
05.08.2011 -- Virtual Congregation
In Mormon culture, it's tradition to bless babies on the first Sunday in a month, or Fast Sunday. Fast Sunday is when the Sacrament Meeting is dedicated to the sharing of testimonies over the pulpit. This often facilitates a testimony from parents. We are breaking with tradition to bless Charlie today because my parents are in town. Because it's not Fast Sunday, it's not a day to give testimony in front of a congregation, but I want to do it anyway. Congratulations: you just joined my virtual congregation!
Yesterday, a niece of mine was baptized and confirmed a member of the LDS church. Our little family was in attendance, along with much of her 'big' family. I missed a lot of what we were there to support because Gabe has been a very energetic little boy lately (read: terror, wrecker, menace). A two-year-old talking loudly about fruit snacks does not contribute much to a quiet atmosphere, so we spent a lot of time in the halls of the church where Gabe could run and talk to his heart's content.
Afterward, when others commented on the beauty of Abby's baptism and confirmation, I couldn't help thinking about the difference in experiencing church functions as a parent (or grandparent) and the experience without small children. In my opinion, or experience, it builds a different kind of testimony--almost purely practical.
In college and early in my married life, I could ponder theology to a certain degree, and appreciate the richness of intricate explorations of religion and spirituality. Nowadays, prayer and faith are simple tools I rely on to make my days go better. Today, I look at my children and am overcome with awe and gratitude. I use whatever brain power I have pondering their futures and how I can be a better Mom. I appreciate the richness of my role as their mother.
...
Amen.
Yesterday, a niece of mine was baptized and confirmed a member of the LDS church. Our little family was in attendance, along with much of her 'big' family. I missed a lot of what we were there to support because Gabe has been a very energetic little boy lately (read: terror, wrecker, menace). A two-year-old talking loudly about fruit snacks does not contribute much to a quiet atmosphere, so we spent a lot of time in the halls of the church where Gabe could run and talk to his heart's content.
Afterward, when others commented on the beauty of Abby's baptism and confirmation, I couldn't help thinking about the difference in experiencing church functions as a parent (or grandparent) and the experience without small children. In my opinion, or experience, it builds a different kind of testimony--almost purely practical.
In college and early in my married life, I could ponder theology to a certain degree, and appreciate the richness of intricate explorations of religion and spirituality. Nowadays, prayer and faith are simple tools I rely on to make my days go better. Today, I look at my children and am overcome with awe and gratitude. I use whatever brain power I have pondering their futures and how I can be a better Mom. I appreciate the richness of my role as their mother.
...
Amen.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
04.20.2011 -- Feeling Adventurous?
Of my cooking, it has been said, "When [I'm] on, [I'm] on." And it happens to be true. When I'm on, I can turn out some pretty good stuff. Of course, the rest of this evaluation (implied but unspoken) turns out to be equally true. When I'm off, I'm off.
This is one of the reasons we don't entertain more than we do. A big one. The other big one, I would say is Brian's lack-of-desire-to-entertain. I don't think he thinks about it much, so almost always, if we do have people over, it's pretty much all on me. That doesn't mean he won't help out, but it is obvious that when it is my idea, it is me who does most of the work--with the exception of clean-up. My sweet husband rolls up his sleeves and cleans up after dinner, wheter it's Thanksgiving or just a random Thursday. Such a good man!
Yep. When I'm on, I'm on, but when I'm off, it's time to call for pizza. This means that if I consider having people over to dinner, I am potentially subjecting them to a night of bad food. Hard to do. This is why, I guess, mostly I invite people over who I am confident possess a degree of unconditional love for our family.
I once made a casserole with spam, eggs, noodles, condensed mushroom soup, bread, brussel sprouts, copious amounts of Velveeta, and an abundance of ketchup. It was served cold. I served it inverted on a platter, garnished with fresh brussel sprout leaves and a big squirt of ketchup. There are pictures. The ketchup was the kicker, because our friend and dinner guest for the evening, Jami, has an unnatural fear of condiments. She literally has never tasted most condiments and does not like to touch them.
To be fair and honest, no one ever actually tasted that 'Fiesta Bake.' I cracked up (hysterically) before Jami got it to her mouth. I think, to her, it ended up being something like a near-death experience. That Fiesta Bake was the center of an elaborate plan to freak out those new friends of ours and test their mettle. (Now that I think about it, it was a clever way to induct them into dinner at our house. As bad as dinner could get, it would never hold a candle to that Fiesta Bake!) I clearly have issues--let's just take a moment to respect that.
Know what? In retrospect, the funniest part of that night is that the "real" dinner, which was in the oven, was salmon. Our friend JT hates fish, unless it's sushi. We didn't learn that until later. He and Jami were true troopers that night and have been ever since. They even enlisted the help of her parents to get us back with a terrible, terrible breakfast involving uncooked beans (or something). A moment of silence in respect for the terrible breakfast (which had a name which I have forgotten), and the fiesta bake, please.
There was another time it got bad with Jami and JT. Until I have time to fully flesh out this story, let's just say that it involved me trying to pass venison off as beef in a bean soup, and that it did not pass. We ordered pizza. That was my first time trying to use venison (and probably my last).
Maybe you're wondering what prompted this post about culinary disaster. Are you? This afternoon, I made (deep breath) peanut butter oatmeal ginger chocolate chip cookies. Interesting. No, you may not have the recipe, because there isn't one. And is it another disaster? The kids like them, maybe not a disaster, but an adventure.
This is one of the reasons we don't entertain more than we do. A big one. The other big one, I would say is Brian's lack-of-desire-to-entertain. I don't think he thinks about it much, so almost always, if we do have people over, it's pretty much all on me. That doesn't mean he won't help out, but it is obvious that when it is my idea, it is me who does most of the work--with the exception of clean-up. My sweet husband rolls up his sleeves and cleans up after dinner, wheter it's Thanksgiving or just a random Thursday. Such a good man!
Yep. When I'm on, I'm on, but when I'm off, it's time to call for pizza. This means that if I consider having people over to dinner, I am potentially subjecting them to a night of bad food. Hard to do. This is why, I guess, mostly I invite people over who I am confident possess a degree of unconditional love for our family.
I once made a casserole with spam, eggs, noodles, condensed mushroom soup, bread, brussel sprouts, copious amounts of Velveeta, and an abundance of ketchup. It was served cold. I served it inverted on a platter, garnished with fresh brussel sprout leaves and a big squirt of ketchup. There are pictures. The ketchup was the kicker, because our friend and dinner guest for the evening, Jami, has an unnatural fear of condiments. She literally has never tasted most condiments and does not like to touch them.
To be fair and honest, no one ever actually tasted that 'Fiesta Bake.' I cracked up (hysterically) before Jami got it to her mouth. I think, to her, it ended up being something like a near-death experience. That Fiesta Bake was the center of an elaborate plan to freak out those new friends of ours and test their mettle. (Now that I think about it, it was a clever way to induct them into dinner at our house. As bad as dinner could get, it would never hold a candle to that Fiesta Bake!) I clearly have issues--let's just take a moment to respect that.
Know what? In retrospect, the funniest part of that night is that the "real" dinner, which was in the oven, was salmon. Our friend JT hates fish, unless it's sushi. We didn't learn that until later. He and Jami were true troopers that night and have been ever since. They even enlisted the help of her parents to get us back with a terrible, terrible breakfast involving uncooked beans (or something). A moment of silence in respect for the terrible breakfast (which had a name which I have forgotten), and the fiesta bake, please.
There was another time it got bad with Jami and JT. Until I have time to fully flesh out this story, let's just say that it involved me trying to pass venison off as beef in a bean soup, and that it did not pass. We ordered pizza. That was my first time trying to use venison (and probably my last).
Maybe you're wondering what prompted this post about culinary disaster. Are you? This afternoon, I made (deep breath) peanut butter oatmeal ginger chocolate chip cookies. Interesting. No, you may not have the recipe, because there isn't one. And is it another disaster? The kids like them, maybe not a disaster, but an adventure.
Friday, April 15, 2011
04.15.2011 -- Love, Chopped Liver
A few thoughts:
After moving chairs back into their regular positions around the dining table, I realized that I want to remember this: Lucy and Gabe are so enamoured with their father that they want to sit *right* *beside* *him* at dinner. Me? Chopped liver. (Liver is nutritious and thrifty!) Just to clarify, Brian sits at the head of the table. Normally, this is a spot for one, but lately, our kids have challenged that paradigm and have decided that there's room for two: one Daddy and one Jelly Bean, or one Daddy with one Boone. (This is fine with me. I know my kids are with me all day. I know that they love me too.)
We owe a lot to Star Trek.
But seriously, folks. After explaining to Lucy the other day that when I was a kid, phones were attached to the wall and didn't play music and no one texted, televisions were gigantically fat etc... I remember something somebody wrote (which I read) that pointed out the role that science fiction plays in directing inventive minds. Dream it, do it. On Star Trek, they were using communicators (Blue Tooth headsets) and touch screens to get things done a long time ago. Thanks, Gene Roddenberry!
On a final note, unless I was too sleepy to notice, I think Charlie slept through the night last night! (10 - 6) I'm not holding my breath until this happens again.
Happy Friday!
After moving chairs back into their regular positions around the dining table, I realized that I want to remember this: Lucy and Gabe are so enamoured with their father that they want to sit *right* *beside* *him* at dinner. Me? Chopped liver. (Liver is nutritious and thrifty!) Just to clarify, Brian sits at the head of the table. Normally, this is a spot for one, but lately, our kids have challenged that paradigm and have decided that there's room for two: one Daddy and one Jelly Bean, or one Daddy with one Boone. (This is fine with me. I know my kids are with me all day. I know that they love me too.)
We owe a lot to Star Trek.
But seriously, folks. After explaining to Lucy the other day that when I was a kid, phones were attached to the wall and didn't play music and no one texted, televisions were gigantically fat etc... I remember something somebody wrote (which I read) that pointed out the role that science fiction plays in directing inventive minds. Dream it, do it. On Star Trek, they were using communicators (Blue Tooth headsets) and touch screens to get things done a long time ago. Thanks, Gene Roddenberry!
On a final note, unless I was too sleepy to notice, I think Charlie slept through the night last night! (10 - 6) I'm not holding my breath until this happens again.
Happy Friday!
Friday, April 8, 2011
I Remembered
Just read this on a friend's blog and wanted to put it somewhere so I can read it again:
I Remembered
There never was a mood of mine,
Gay or heart-broken, luminous or dull,
But you could ease me of its fever
And give it back to me more beautiful.
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I remembered you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
~Sara Teasdale
(On second thought--It's silly to say that I wanted to put it here to be able to find it. I could always go look at that blog. I guess i put it here because I like it a lot, and I think good poetry should be shared.)
I Remembered
There never was a mood of mine,
Gay or heart-broken, luminous or dull,
But you could ease me of its fever
And give it back to me more beautiful.
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I remembered you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
~Sara Teasdale
(On second thought--It's silly to say that I wanted to put it here to be able to find it. I could always go look at that blog. I guess i put it here because I like it a lot, and I think good poetry should be shared.)
04.08.2011 -- Baby Wearing
The downside to baby wearing is this: Although it is convenient to have a baby strapped to your chest, and facilitates housekeeping and caretaking of older children, every once in a while, you may find yourself looking down at the baby and making eye-contact. At this point, said baby may decide to smile at you and goo adorably. Most babies at this point in their development will not be very articulate. If one were to translate the look and expression from the worn baby, it may be something like this: "Hi there! I like to be with you! I am very cozy and enjoy what we're doing here. Want to smile at each other for a while?"
"My goodness!" you will say to yourself, "Here I am going about my business, having forgotten what a charming person is attached to my chest!" You then will certainly doubt, at least momentarily, that the housekeeping and sandwich making and laundry folding you have done were more important or better than having a staring/smiling contest with the small charming person you haven't thought of in an hour.
Thought you all ought to know.
"My goodness!" you will say to yourself, "Here I am going about my business, having forgotten what a charming person is attached to my chest!" You then will certainly doubt, at least momentarily, that the housekeeping and sandwich making and laundry folding you have done were more important or better than having a staring/smiling contest with the small charming person you haven't thought of in an hour.
Thought you all ought to know.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
03.31.2011 -- Obsession
Lucy is obsessed.
Okay, so preoccupied would be much a more accurate word, but it doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? No, dear reader, it does not.
I was reflecting yesterday on her past obsessions. Dressing pretty (okay, prettily in skirts or dresses), painting nails (finger and toes). That's it, really. Somehow, it's a big relief when these things pass. Lucy is now very happy in jeans and a t-shirt. They don't even have to be pink. She hasn't mentioned painting nails to me in at least a month, and is currently polish-free.
Lucy's current preoccupation is with her room.
Last summer, she started asking when we were going to move. I took her ball and ran with it and started worrying about all kinds of things: What would make her want to move?! Why was she unhappy here? Was it a social thing? Did I need to intervene? Would she tell me the details of this situation?
Turns out that she wanted a prettier room.
Brian has been fostering this desire in hopes that it will lead to more space in our own bed, as it is not uncommon for us to end up with six bodies in our bed on any given night. Usually, the number is much more manageable, but our kids (and dog) all seem to gravitate to our bed.
Brian has suggested to Lucy that she and Gabe could move to rooms in the basement and paint them any color they want. She wanted to go shopping for paint this past Sunday. We settled for making a list of things that she wanted in her room. This list included a lamp, bunk bed, and new curtains. She thought we could use her current quilt or find a new one. For me personally, watching her in this state of hyper-planning is fun. It's very foreign to me and extremely entertaining, however, there comes a point where it get to be a little much. See, Lucy is a talker. She can talk a blue streak.* She could talk both ears off an elephant. When she gets so incredibly focused on and excited about one thing, it's a little intense. She literally went to bed talking about her room and woke up talking about her room. Brian took Lucy and Gabe to get paint swatches the other night, so the streak continues, albeit to a lesser degree.
I would be fine if this preoccupation passes without painting the walls blue and pink and purple and yellow and green, but a big part of me wants to see this plan of hers (and her daddy's) come to fruition. I'm proud of that girl.
In other news, Gabe is accepting more variety in his wardrobe but still demands that he make the executive decision. Maybe it's that I (and Brian) are getting better at how and what we offer. Probably all of the above. Gabe is into "hoops" still, also bikes and skateboarding. He is able to make most shots on the hoop that he got for his birthday, and is his own cheering section. He's a talker, too, and it's fun to hear him echo Lucy's part in all conversations. Gabe got a bad (terrible sounding) cough--which he passed on to his little brother --so we're trying to lay low for a while. A trip to the doctor for Charlie was uneventful, so overall, we're happy.
(As for Charles, I am enjoying him(!!!), and hogging him a little bit.)
*From word-detective.com: “Blue streak,” means “with great intensity or speed” and originated in the US in the early 18th century. In all likelihood, the term [arose] by analogy to the speed and force of a bolt of lightning, especially in “talk a blue streak,” meaning to speak rapidly and excitedly.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
03.02.2011 -- Tell Me The Truth
This past weekend, I spoke with someone for the first time in about 16 years. One of the questions she asked me was, "How do you like being a mother?" She prefaced her question with, "Maybe I shouldn't ask this right now..." (the implication being that maybe I like it less with a newborn baby?)
Without hesitation (because I've been thinking a lot about this lately), I answered, "I love it." "Honestly," I said, "I consider it one of the biggest luxuries ever to have my children snuggled up to me and to just spend time with them." As I type this, Charlie is crying on my lap, and Lucy is waiting for breakfast. I wasn't able to finish my work-out this morning (I'll try to complete it later?), but I wouldn't change places with anyone.
(I got a new computer for Christmas --thanks, BT!--and I haven't figured out how to access the pictures uploaded, so for now, I will be using pictures taken from the computer itself.)
Sunday, February 20, 2011
02.20.2011 -- Lessons from Granny
Lessons I learned from my Granny.
Details are important, but people are more important. Details make a difference. If you can have cut flowers, have them. A hot entree is better served on warmed plates. Spending time cutting carrots in a precise julienne is not a waste of time. Yes, details are important. As good as she was at details, though, Gran was gracious and kind in the implementation of her designs.
Viewing people in their best light. Years ago as a kid, I was playing in Gran's room, just spending time with her. She started going through some snapshots and included me. We came across a few that she put into the garbage can, saying, "I don't think we need to keep pictures that aren't flattering to people, do you?" Honestly, the idea was completely new to me--that you could select and keep only good pictures. And why not? I like to think that those bad pictures in the trash may have been a microcosm of a world view which allowed little room for memories where loved ones were not at their best.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. Gran was not the first person to utter this axiom. I have heard it from others, yet, for some reason, I always associate this with her. As pulled-together and as blessed as she was on so many levels, I never, never got the impression that she thought she was better than any other person, or that she was more deserving.
Finding a way. As my grandparents grew older, my Granddad's hearing grew worse. He lost his ability to easily hear the naturally higher tones of Granny's voice. One of my favorite memories of Granny was the way she communicated with my Granddad when he was having trouble hearing her. If he didn't hear her, she would repeat herself, but with her voice lowered a few octaves so it sounded like she was imitating a man. Funny? Yes. She found the humor in it, too, milking it a little for an audience with a twinkle in her eye--but it worked. To me, it is a perfect example of her willingness to cooperate--to step outside herself. From this, I learned not to let pride or convention get in the way of something truly important, like talking with your spouse.
Making do. Granny had a collection of beautiful hand-painted dishes which she brought home from one of her trips abroad. These dishes were used for all kinds of meals. She loved them and she used them. Because they got used, they were sometimes broken. When I set the table for my Granny, we always used plates and bowls which had been carefully reconstructed by my grandfather. These broken-and-mended dishes were used indiscriminately along with the perfect dishes, and there were never any apologies about it. From this, I learned that there was no shame in using imperfect or rehabilitated things.
Details are important, but people are more important. Details make a difference. If you can have cut flowers, have them. A hot entree is better served on warmed plates. Spending time cutting carrots in a precise julienne is not a waste of time. Yes, details are important. As good as she was at details, though, Gran was gracious and kind in the implementation of her designs.
Viewing people in their best light. Years ago as a kid, I was playing in Gran's room, just spending time with her. She started going through some snapshots and included me. We came across a few that she put into the garbage can, saying, "I don't think we need to keep pictures that aren't flattering to people, do you?" Honestly, the idea was completely new to me--that you could select and keep only good pictures. And why not? I like to think that those bad pictures in the trash may have been a microcosm of a world view which allowed little room for memories where loved ones were not at their best.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. Gran was not the first person to utter this axiom. I have heard it from others, yet, for some reason, I always associate this with her. As pulled-together and as blessed as she was on so many levels, I never, never got the impression that she thought she was better than any other person, or that she was more deserving.
Finding a way. As my grandparents grew older, my Granddad's hearing grew worse. He lost his ability to easily hear the naturally higher tones of Granny's voice. One of my favorite memories of Granny was the way she communicated with my Granddad when he was having trouble hearing her. If he didn't hear her, she would repeat herself, but with her voice lowered a few octaves so it sounded like she was imitating a man. Funny? Yes. She found the humor in it, too, milking it a little for an audience with a twinkle in her eye--but it worked. To me, it is a perfect example of her willingness to cooperate--to step outside herself. From this, I learned not to let pride or convention get in the way of something truly important, like talking with your spouse.
Making do. Granny had a collection of beautiful hand-painted dishes which she brought home from one of her trips abroad. These dishes were used for all kinds of meals. She loved them and she used them. Because they got used, they were sometimes broken. When I set the table for my Granny, we always used plates and bowls which had been carefully reconstructed by my grandfather. These broken-and-mended dishes were used indiscriminately along with the perfect dishes, and there were never any apologies about it. From this, I learned that there was no shame in using imperfect or rehabilitated things.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
02.17.2011 -- Big Sigh
About a year and a half ago (wow, time goes fast), I spent a few weeks in the east and got to spend some time with one of grand mothers. My grandmothers are phenomenal, AND grand. This wasn't the last time I got to spend time with my Granny. (Granny for her, is an especially ironic name, considering how perpetually youthful and modern she is in my eyes.) It wasn't the last time by far, but it was a really special time, and I will always think of it as my last "time" with her.
She died this week.
Sadness.
It didn't take me long to realize that my sadness was 100% selfish, though. If I could choose a way to die, I would happily sign up for a double helping of how she went: having lived a long, full life, surrounded by loved ones and with time to say goodbye.
She is definitely one of my heroes. Always. I've always loved her name, mostly because of who she was. I would have named Lucy after her, but the name wasn't on my and Brian's list of common loves.To me, the name Rosamond will always belong to a beautiful heroine, well-read and well-traveled, but even better loved. A woman with an eye and a heart for beauty in things and in people.
Love you, Gran.
She died this week.
Sadness.
It didn't take me long to realize that my sadness was 100% selfish, though. If I could choose a way to die, I would happily sign up for a double helping of how she went: having lived a long, full life, surrounded by loved ones and with time to say goodbye.
She is definitely one of my heroes. Always. I've always loved her name, mostly because of who she was. I would have named Lucy after her, but the name wasn't on my and Brian's list of common loves.To me, the name Rosamond will always belong to a beautiful heroine, well-read and well-traveled, but even better loved. A woman with an eye and a heart for beauty in things and in people.
Love you, Gran.
Monday, February 14, 2011
02.14.2011 -- Khalil Gibran On Love
“When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God." And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”
I did this on my iPad, and it took way too much time. I also tried to add my own text after explaining why I posted what I did (above). That text is on my iPad, and I will add it later. That's probably the last time I try to post from my iPad.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God." And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”
I did this on my iPad, and it took way too much time. I also tried to add my own text after explaining why I posted what I did (above). That text is on my iPad, and I will add it later. That's probably the last time I try to post from my iPad.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
02.02.2011 -- Wheels That Come Off and Precious
Tonight, in an effort to promote literacy in my family, I had Lucy and Gabe sit down to write. Lucy started to write some of her high frequency words from school then drew a picture of herself. This turned into a note for her dad. Gabe scribbled. While they worked, I decided it wouldn't hurt for me to write something, too.
In this stream-of-consciousness writing, I began to realize why the "wheels have come off" of our little bus this week. There are a lot of reasons:
It's early-out week for SEP conferences. (I haven't figured out what SEP stands for: Student Educator Parent?) The schedule is early out each day, which means that our day begins earlier every day and Lucy is in school for only 2 hours every day. Now, I start to get ready to leave the house a minimum of 1 hour before I aim to leave, so early-out for a week ends up being pretty bad. (Add to this scheduling mess a two-year-old who is accustomed to taking his nap (conveniently) when I usually drop Lucy off for school, but who will not fall asleep when I drop her off during the short schedule, and you really add to the mess.) Gabe missed his nap completely on Monday, and boy, did everyone pay! I'm surprised he didn't lose his voice with all of the screaming and crying he did when we (mostly Brian) tried to get him to bed.
Another factor this week has been Brian--there have been huge changes at work and he's trying to get his normal work done in addition to accommodating all of the changes. This all translates into longer hours, which means longer hours for me... And did you know that "we" don't like to eat without Brian? We don't. I am willing to compromise once in a while, but Lucy always waits for her daddy. This means that, even though the kids get hungry at 5pm, we wait until their favorite person (Daddy) gets home at 6, 7 or even later. On one hand, it gives me more time to get dinner and the house together, on the other hand, it means more time being a single mother. All things considered, it's probably a wash, stress wise, but it adds to the general mess.
Where the disorder is most evident is the laundry room. I keep up with laundry sometimes, but most of the time, it's one of the first things to fail. Right now, for example, we have a lot of clean laundry, it's just all piled together. ..And I am blogging. See how I am?
This brings me to my next thought:
Lucy brought home a book from school today. It's just a little paperback copy of The Magic Treehouse. We've already read almost half of it. It was a gift from her classmate, Remy, in honor of their classmate, Eliza. (I think Remy is Eliza's cousin.) On the front of the book is a large red sticker that says "Eliza's Wish" on it. I've seen this sticker before--on a book in our pediatrician's office.
The first time I read the story behind Eliza's Wish in the doctor's office, Lucy asked me why I was crying. Today, I made a connection in my poor little brain, and Lucy asked again why I was crying. Eliza is in Lucy's kindergarten class. I knew Eliza and her family were special before, but I know more now.
Follow this link to learn more about Eliza and her AMAZING family. ( And that is my excuse for blogging instead of putting away laundry.) Life is short and precious.
Short and precious!
In this stream-of-consciousness writing, I began to realize why the "wheels have come off" of our little bus this week. There are a lot of reasons:
It's early-out week for SEP conferences. (I haven't figured out what SEP stands for: Student Educator Parent?) The schedule is early out each day, which means that our day begins earlier every day and Lucy is in school for only 2 hours every day. Now, I start to get ready to leave the house a minimum of 1 hour before I aim to leave, so early-out for a week ends up being pretty bad. (Add to this scheduling mess a two-year-old who is accustomed to taking his nap (conveniently) when I usually drop Lucy off for school, but who will not fall asleep when I drop her off during the short schedule, and you really add to the mess.) Gabe missed his nap completely on Monday, and boy, did everyone pay! I'm surprised he didn't lose his voice with all of the screaming and crying he did when we (mostly Brian) tried to get him to bed.
Another factor this week has been Brian--there have been huge changes at work and he's trying to get his normal work done in addition to accommodating all of the changes. This all translates into longer hours, which means longer hours for me... And did you know that "we" don't like to eat without Brian? We don't. I am willing to compromise once in a while, but Lucy always waits for her daddy. This means that, even though the kids get hungry at 5pm, we wait until their favorite person (Daddy) gets home at 6, 7 or even later. On one hand, it gives me more time to get dinner and the house together, on the other hand, it means more time being a single mother. All things considered, it's probably a wash, stress wise, but it adds to the general mess.
Where the disorder is most evident is the laundry room. I keep up with laundry sometimes, but most of the time, it's one of the first things to fail. Right now, for example, we have a lot of clean laundry, it's just all piled together. ..And I am blogging. See how I am?
This brings me to my next thought:
Lucy brought home a book from school today. It's just a little paperback copy of The Magic Treehouse. We've already read almost half of it. It was a gift from her classmate, Remy, in honor of their classmate, Eliza. (I think Remy is Eliza's cousin.) On the front of the book is a large red sticker that says "Eliza's Wish" on it. I've seen this sticker before--on a book in our pediatrician's office.
The first time I read the story behind Eliza's Wish in the doctor's office, Lucy asked me why I was crying. Today, I made a connection in my poor little brain, and Lucy asked again why I was crying. Eliza is in Lucy's kindergarten class. I knew Eliza and her family were special before, but I know more now.
Follow this link to learn more about Eliza and her AMAZING family. ( And that is my excuse for blogging instead of putting away laundry.) Life is short and precious.
Short and precious!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
01.30.2011 -- Funny Kids...
Some things that I don't want to forget:
Lucy calls mayonnaise "homemade." This may be due to a story I recently told Brian about homemade mayonnaise.
Lucy uses the word university for universe, as in, "You are the best mom in the University!"
Today when recounting the nativity story, Lucy got to the part about the inn which was full and said, "Mary and Joseph got to the P.E.M. and it was full, so they stayed in the stable."
Gabe does not like his pants too high on his waist. When he feels his pants are too high, he says, "No Grandma!" Not "No, Grandma!" Although I'm not exactly sure what he means, it comes off as, "I'm not wearing my pants like Grandma wears hers!"
Yesterday, Gabe serenaded me and Lucy. He stood tall on the ottoman and sang our names (and Charlie's), arms wide open, with a lovely vibrato at the end. Maybe the kid has perfect pitch: he tells me, "No singing!" all the time.
Lucy can hardly keep herself away from Charlie. She is drawn to him and fawns over him gently declaring her love for each and every part of him. For example, "I just love the shape of Charlie's head...and his ears (they're so perfect and tiny)!!"
Gabe is a little different: Gabe wants to hold Charlie as much as Lucy does, but he's satisfied with a few second's worth of assisted brother holding. Gabe does croon over Charlie, but he's much more likely to run to Charlie and shout, "Charlie!" or "baby brother!" in his face.
The past few days, Gabe has developed a routine where he stomps around with his chest puffed out saying, "Giant!!" When we move out of his way with fear in our eyes, it makes a huge grin appear on his face.
Lucy calls mayonnaise "homemade." This may be due to a story I recently told Brian about homemade mayonnaise.
Lucy uses the word university for universe, as in, "You are the best mom in the University!"
Today when recounting the nativity story, Lucy got to the part about the inn which was full and said, "Mary and Joseph got to the P.E.M. and it was full, so they stayed in the stable."
Gabe does not like his pants too high on his waist. When he feels his pants are too high, he says, "No Grandma!" Not "No, Grandma!" Although I'm not exactly sure what he means, it comes off as, "I'm not wearing my pants like Grandma wears hers!"
Yesterday, Gabe serenaded me and Lucy. He stood tall on the ottoman and sang our names (and Charlie's), arms wide open, with a lovely vibrato at the end. Maybe the kid has perfect pitch: he tells me, "No singing!" all the time.
Lucy can hardly keep herself away from Charlie. She is drawn to him and fawns over him gently declaring her love for each and every part of him. For example, "I just love the shape of Charlie's head...and his ears (they're so perfect and tiny)!!"
Gabe is a little different: Gabe wants to hold Charlie as much as Lucy does, but he's satisfied with a few second's worth of assisted brother holding. Gabe does croon over Charlie, but he's much more likely to run to Charlie and shout, "Charlie!" or "baby brother!" in his face.
The past few days, Gabe has developed a routine where he stomps around with his chest puffed out saying, "Giant!!" When we move out of his way with fear in our eyes, it makes a huge grin appear on his face.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
01.16.11 -- A Drop in the Bucket
So much to say.
There's a new person living here. He's very sweet. His name is Charles. He goes by Charlie, mostly.
As for names and naming, I have this to say. Brian and I are either serious rebels or serious ingrates... Why? We have broken tradition. We have given our children (mostly) their own names and no one elses. There is a long standing tradition among upstanding standers of naming people after people. Well, we had a lot of people we wanted to honor by naming our kids after them, but we ended up *not.* Here's my theory: There are so many people that we hope our children will emulate, that we couldn't choose between them all, so we struck out on the less traveled path of names. But really, it comes down to me. I am the one who is so particular about names. I'm almost a little superstitious about them. Well, superstitious wouldn't really be the right word. I can't help but think of the meaning, is all--and the origin, and the sound of the whole name and the initials, etc. And then, of course, there's no accounting for taste. I am a fan of traditional names, and Brian leans more to unusual names. This is why our kids have traditional first names and less traditional middle names. Our thinking was that if they ever start to hate their boring first names, they can always start going by their funky middle names. Another way to see it is that we (I) are (am) not brave enough to give them a truly different name as a first name.
Anyway, there is obviously a lot more for me to write in order to get up to date on things around here--a birth story, for example... But this is what I've got for now.
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