Today in church, there was a discussion about developing talents. You know... pursuing your interests and putting time into talents so that they "multiply." Way better than burying talents. (Matthew 25:14-30) This all made me think about mothering.
There are many days when I feel like my full time job is encouraging, persuading, cajoling, manipulating, sometimes even threatening our kids into using their time well. Playing, by the way, definitely qualifies as an excellent use of time in my book. (I'm not perfect about using all of my time wisely...sometimes I wish I lived with my own mother so I could be mothered that way... MOM?)
Lucy has been interested in gymnastics and violin for years. She has a real desire to progress in both areas. They're not her only interests (swimming, cooking, drawing, and science also interest her a lot), but they're the ones she's focusing on for now. AND YET, it's rare that she doesn't need encouragement from me in one form or another to work on these "talents."
I know from experience that all parents don't do this. Many don't have the time or energy. By the time I rolled around, my parents would allow me to sign up for classes, but they didn't press the issue if I didn't feel like practicing. If I stopped practicing, the lessons stopped too. I think both approaches teach valuable lessons. Sometimes I find myself thinking about being able to play the piano, lamenting my mother's unwillingness to force me to practice. But that's just ridiculous. I had plenty of interests which developed without hand-holding from my parents: reading, art, soccer, languages, karate, yoga, backyard volleyball, basement dancing expositions with friends, etc.
On one hand, Lucy is learning right now that perseverance (mine and hers, I guess) pays off. We are both learning that dreams are attainable through hard work and consistency--not necessarily perfect consistency, but through dedication. Now is probably a good time to explain that if it were left up to me completely, I would probably have Lucy enrolled in just tumbling and maybe dance. She loves gymnastics, though--bars and beam more than floor. And the violin is something that she came up with 100% by herself.
Gabe is a little different. He's still 4. He was in gymnastics because he wanted to be, but I pulled him out because he refused to go about 50% of the time. This gives us a concrete example of what happens when you don't do those hard things that don't sound fun. Here's the gist of my spiel: "When you don't do the hard things, you miss out on chances to practice. Without practice, as awkward and as painful as it may be, progression is not going to happen."
Gabe has been asserting his independence lately by sometimes deciding not to participate in swim lessons. I haven't made him get in the pool, but he does have to come with us, of course. Last week, he was going on his second day of non-participation, but after a little lecture along these lines, Gabe decided that he would go to swim lessons. Actually, he suggested that he would commit to going to every lesson so he could start gymnastics again. That kid can understand me pretty well sometimes.
With Charlie, we're still focused on helping him not hurt himself or other people too much.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
06.01.2013 -- Pace Myself
One of my strongest character traits is enthusiasm. There are pros and cons to being naturally enthusiastic. If you haven't heard or read my thoughts on all of that, just ask me and I'll go on as long as you keep listening to me.
One of the issues that arises, though, from a natural and almost irrepressible enthusiasm is that I get a lot of new stuff coming into my life. I also see a lot going out. Not many of my passions/obsessions/hobbies make the cut.
My newest hobby is snail keeping. It turns out that snail keeping is a pretty great way for me to chill out.
It started by accident.
I was weeding one day with a friend and my boys were with me. Whenever I'm working in the dirt and come across something living, it is the subject of great excitement and the kids immediately want to make it a pet. Roly polies, worms, and snails all qualify as cute and keepable in their eyes.
When Gabe asked me if he could keep the snails he found, I remembered a little specialized ventilated glass box that I got on clearance from the pet store for Christmas. It was really too small for most animals, so it was being used to hold down a corner of a shelf in a closet. Snails, though... snails could make do in a little glass box with a top screen and a back wall made of painted foam rock.
That first round with snails was short lived. I let the kids take them out and handle them whenever they wanted, and the poor snails got left in the sun without adequate water. I learned a lot, though. I learned a lot more about snails than you probably want to read here.... and I learned how relaxing it is for me to watch them.
If you can get past the ick factor, snails are amazing little animals. When they slide over a pane of glass, you can see the symmetrical ripples of their foot which propel them along. When they eat with their disappearing mouths, you can hear the crunching of your compost scraps. And you can watch that food moving up through their heads into their bodies. The way their feelers and eyes retract and extend is fascinating. Yes, friends: I have found that a snail's pace is ideal for stress relief. They're free, and when we're done with them, we plan to feed them to our neighbors' chickens.
I would post my own picture here today, but I need to clean their cage again. Keeping nine snails in a 10"x10" box does not let the walls stay clear of snail poop and slime for long.
One of the issues that arises, though, from a natural and almost irrepressible enthusiasm is that I get a lot of new stuff coming into my life. I also see a lot going out. Not many of my passions/obsessions/hobbies make the cut.
My newest hobby is snail keeping. It turns out that snail keeping is a pretty great way for me to chill out.
It started by accident.
I was weeding one day with a friend and my boys were with me. Whenever I'm working in the dirt and come across something living, it is the subject of great excitement and the kids immediately want to make it a pet. Roly polies, worms, and snails all qualify as cute and keepable in their eyes.
When Gabe asked me if he could keep the snails he found, I remembered a little specialized ventilated glass box that I got on clearance from the pet store for Christmas. It was really too small for most animals, so it was being used to hold down a corner of a shelf in a closet. Snails, though... snails could make do in a little glass box with a top screen and a back wall made of painted foam rock.
That first round with snails was short lived. I let the kids take them out and handle them whenever they wanted, and the poor snails got left in the sun without adequate water. I learned a lot, though. I learned a lot more about snails than you probably want to read here.... and I learned how relaxing it is for me to watch them.
If you can get past the ick factor, snails are amazing little animals. When they slide over a pane of glass, you can see the symmetrical ripples of their foot which propel them along. When they eat with their disappearing mouths, you can hear the crunching of your compost scraps. And you can watch that food moving up through their heads into their bodies. The way their feelers and eyes retract and extend is fascinating. Yes, friends: I have found that a snail's pace is ideal for stress relief. They're free, and when we're done with them, we plan to feed them to our neighbors' chickens.
I would post my own picture here today, but I need to clean their cage again. Keeping nine snails in a 10"x10" box does not let the walls stay clear of snail poop and slime for long.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
05.05.2013 -- To a Screeching Halt
This blog has been around for around 5 years. I'm not the world's most consistent writer, but I think that it's been rare that I've failed to post for an entire MONTH. Maybe it's not just me, then. Maybe I really am busy.
What if you and I were sitting together, having an intimate conversation... and I said to you, "This soccer mom thing is not for the faint of heart." Would you think less of me? Would your suspicions be confirmed? Would you avoid me in the future?
But really, what would I mean by saying that, anyway? Context would help. When this thought occurred to me, it was a very busy week. Taxes, favors for friends, violin lessons, violin practicing, soccer practices, soccer games, gymnastics, preschool, doctor's appointments, mailing stuff, fulfilling commitments, homework enforcement, reading enforcement, laundry, food prep, etc. And, I kept thinking to myself, I only have three kids!
We got through that week pretty well, and I was almost ready to declare myself a success. But then, guess what? Charlie got the stomach flu. He threw up for four days. He had a zillion dirty diapers (I counted them). And once Charlie stopped throwing up, Gabe got something that seemed like food poisoning, and then a day after we stopped worrying that Gabe might be sick, Lucy came down with a fever and chills. (That was a run-on sentence because it was a run-on week of sickness.) Things slowed down very quickly. Having to stay home and say "no" to almost everything was sort of nice, but also made us all stir-crazy.
We finally we're all better just in time for some really fantastic weather, so we've been enjoying being outside. I decided to build up a little garden plot in an area that was just dead space before. I based my attempt off of the idea of hugelkultur. It's not the prettiest garden bed, but it was 100% free, so it has a sweet spirit.
I also decided to plant a rose bush. The fact is: I like roses. I like the way they smell, and I like the way they look. I know some people of impeccable standards and character who do not like roses because of their thorns. Without roses, though. We would not have this:
What if you and I were sitting together, having an intimate conversation... and I said to you, "This soccer mom thing is not for the faint of heart." Would you think less of me? Would your suspicions be confirmed? Would you avoid me in the future?
But really, what would I mean by saying that, anyway? Context would help. When this thought occurred to me, it was a very busy week. Taxes, favors for friends, violin lessons, violin practicing, soccer practices, soccer games, gymnastics, preschool, doctor's appointments, mailing stuff, fulfilling commitments, homework enforcement, reading enforcement, laundry, food prep, etc. And, I kept thinking to myself, I only have three kids!
We got through that week pretty well, and I was almost ready to declare myself a success. But then, guess what? Charlie got the stomach flu. He threw up for four days. He had a zillion dirty diapers (I counted them). And once Charlie stopped throwing up, Gabe got something that seemed like food poisoning, and then a day after we stopped worrying that Gabe might be sick, Lucy came down with a fever and chills. (That was a run-on sentence because it was a run-on week of sickness.) Things slowed down very quickly. Having to stay home and say "no" to almost everything was sort of nice, but also made us all stir-crazy.
We finally we're all better just in time for some really fantastic weather, so we've been enjoying being outside. I decided to build up a little garden plot in an area that was just dead space before. I based my attempt off of the idea of hugelkultur. It's not the prettiest garden bed, but it was 100% free, so it has a sweet spirit.
I also decided to plant a rose bush. The fact is: I like roses. I like the way they smell, and I like the way they look. I know some people of impeccable standards and character who do not like roses because of their thorns. Without roses, though. We would not have this:
“The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose.”
― Antoine de St. Exupery
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose.”
― Antoine de St. Exupery
To my embarassment, I fell asleep in church today. I would probably sleep better if I didn't have a two year-old who thinks it's funny to put his fingers up my nose. Just sayin'.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
03.26.2013 -- A Rough Patch and the Magic Circle
This past week has been an interesting one. With most of us being sick and a cold snap that has made playing outside a no go, it has taxed our patience. I was really hoping that yesterday would be the end of it, but it wasn't quite.
When Gabe woke up with a cough Tuesday morning, I had to take his requests to go to the "dentist" (doctor) more seriously. He had a sore throat, he said, and wanted the dentist to help him to feel better. I took him to the doctor, only to have the doc tell us that there was nothing that he could do to help with what he thought was adenovirus.
Not fun. It certainly could be lots worse, but it has been a lot of work this past week, trying to recover and trying to keep the kids rested and happy.
Thursday, Lucy started to have headaches. She called from school to say that it felt that like her shunt had broken and water was on her scalp. It was pretty easy to get someone to look at her head to see if everything was still intact. It was. She asked a ground duty to look at it for her. I asked if she had known that Lucy had a shunt. Lucy said, "No. She thought it was a goose egg!" She almost giggled when she told me that part after school. She called again a little later from school to say that she had a headache. They came and went. I chalked it up to the beginning of the adenovirus that we have been sharing around.
This whole adventure with hydrocephalus is slowly morphing into a scene where Lucy is becoming a central figure with a voice. It's a nice change. When she was a baby, we were just guessing at what she felt.
When the importance of Lucy's own recollection of her symptoms became obvious to me, I went to our stack of notebooks (okay, so "stack" might be too "neat" of a word to describe our stash of coloring books, activity books and notebooks) and pulled out a small notebook that still had some pages left relatively untouched. I gave it to Lucy, strapped on her watch, and explained how she could keep track of her headaches and stomachaches so we could give more information to Dr. Walker. There was no ceremony, but it did feel a little like a rite of passage.
With a lot of support from an especially savvy health care consultant (my sister-in-law), I got on the phone and got an appointment with Lucy's neurosurgeon for today. It was easy, but I did get lost on hold for 15 minutes. I just needed a little encouragement.
Anyone who has been to camp as a kid has probably seen the trust-building exercise where a big group crowds together facing the same direction in a circle. Then, of course, they've got to get very close or it won't work. If the group gets close enough that each person is effectively sandwiched between the persons in front and behind him or her, standing with the same shoulder inside, everyone can sit at the same time. It's a self-supporting circle. Everyone has a seat, but there's no beginning and no end.
It takes commitment and a little bit of balance, but it works well every time, provided that the circle is big and close enough.
Yesterday, a friend of mine texted me and sneeked (YES sneeked!) it out of me that I was going through a rough patch. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. It was nothing I haven't felt before. I and our family would have survived without intervention. Still, it was so nice when she brought over her magical cough syrup and dinner.
When I got a chance to help out my niece yesterday afternoon, it improved my day just as much. I went from feeling tired and stuck to energized and motivated. Really and truly. It was nothing big. I just gave her a ride. Anyone could've done it. But it was something she couldn't do for herself. It provided her a little bit of support and eased the way a little.
I think this is the way the world is meant to work. When we all do just a small something for somebody else, it's possible for all of us to get a little extra support. A lot of times, that little extra that we do for somebody else makes a big difference for both parties.
**Update: Brian took Lucy to get a CAT scan and shunt series today while I stayed at home with the boys. Charlie woke up with a fever and was pretty miserable. When given the choice, Lucy asked Brian to take her--she's such a daddy's girl! Dr. Walker adjusted the setting on her valve to 110 from 100, making the shunt drain more slowly. We hope that this will make a difference for Lucy along with some time lying flat on her back after school to give her a break from all of the activity of school. We will give it three months and re-evaluate.
When Gabe woke up with a cough Tuesday morning, I had to take his requests to go to the "dentist" (doctor) more seriously. He had a sore throat, he said, and wanted the dentist to help him to feel better. I took him to the doctor, only to have the doc tell us that there was nothing that he could do to help with what he thought was adenovirus.
Not fun. It certainly could be lots worse, but it has been a lot of work this past week, trying to recover and trying to keep the kids rested and happy.
Thursday, Lucy started to have headaches. She called from school to say that it felt that like her shunt had broken and water was on her scalp. It was pretty easy to get someone to look at her head to see if everything was still intact. It was. She asked a ground duty to look at it for her. I asked if she had known that Lucy had a shunt. Lucy said, "No. She thought it was a goose egg!" She almost giggled when she told me that part after school. She called again a little later from school to say that she had a headache. They came and went. I chalked it up to the beginning of the adenovirus that we have been sharing around.
This whole adventure with hydrocephalus is slowly morphing into a scene where Lucy is becoming a central figure with a voice. It's a nice change. When she was a baby, we were just guessing at what she felt.
When the importance of Lucy's own recollection of her symptoms became obvious to me, I went to our stack of notebooks (okay, so "stack" might be too "neat" of a word to describe our stash of coloring books, activity books and notebooks) and pulled out a small notebook that still had some pages left relatively untouched. I gave it to Lucy, strapped on her watch, and explained how she could keep track of her headaches and stomachaches so we could give more information to Dr. Walker. There was no ceremony, but it did feel a little like a rite of passage.
With a lot of support from an especially savvy health care consultant (my sister-in-law), I got on the phone and got an appointment with Lucy's neurosurgeon for today. It was easy, but I did get lost on hold for 15 minutes. I just needed a little encouragement.
Anyone who has been to camp as a kid has probably seen the trust-building exercise where a big group crowds together facing the same direction in a circle. Then, of course, they've got to get very close or it won't work. If the group gets close enough that each person is effectively sandwiched between the persons in front and behind him or her, standing with the same shoulder inside, everyone can sit at the same time. It's a self-supporting circle. Everyone has a seat, but there's no beginning and no end.
It takes commitment and a little bit of balance, but it works well every time, provided that the circle is big and close enough.
Yesterday, a friend of mine texted me and sneeked (YES sneeked!) it out of me that I was going through a rough patch. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. It was nothing I haven't felt before. I and our family would have survived without intervention. Still, it was so nice when she brought over her magical cough syrup and dinner.
When I got a chance to help out my niece yesterday afternoon, it improved my day just as much. I went from feeling tired and stuck to energized and motivated. Really and truly. It was nothing big. I just gave her a ride. Anyone could've done it. But it was something she couldn't do for herself. It provided her a little bit of support and eased the way a little.
I think this is the way the world is meant to work. When we all do just a small something for somebody else, it's possible for all of us to get a little extra support. A lot of times, that little extra that we do for somebody else makes a big difference for both parties.
**Update: Brian took Lucy to get a CAT scan and shunt series today while I stayed at home with the boys. Charlie woke up with a fever and was pretty miserable. When given the choice, Lucy asked Brian to take her--she's such a daddy's girl! Dr. Walker adjusted the setting on her valve to 110 from 100, making the shunt drain more slowly. We hope that this will make a difference for Lucy along with some time lying flat on her back after school to give her a break from all of the activity of school. We will give it three months and re-evaluate.
Friday, March 8, 2013
03.08.2013 -- In a Nutshell
Charlie almost always has something on his face these days.
Gabe and one of his cute girl friends.
With Grandma's bird, "Blue."
Waiting for Lucy's first recital to start.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
12.27.2012 -- Happiness!
This year at our post Christmas reunion, we were missing some people we love, but we also got to have Kate join us for the first time! Such fun!
01.10.2013 -- Recovery
I'm now married to a 40 year old! He's great and kind and funny and fabulous and... you get the idea. For his birthday, I threw together a surprise party at the last second. It never would've happened without help from our buddy, Ken. Ken and I got Brian to the Flowrider in Provo on the night of his birthday before he suspected a thing. We rented the Flowrider for an hour, then went to dinner, all with a bunch of people we love. We had so much fun! (If I forgot to invite you, please forgive me--if you couldn't make it, we missed you!)
After Christmas vacation and Brian's birthday, I was scrambling to get caught up on the house, the laundry and putting Christmas away. This despite a LOT of help from Brian. ...I had my hands full with Charlie, who is not an easy teether. Charlie's comfort objects are attached to me, so he wants to be held all the time. His temperament is interesting. Very different from Lucy and Gabe. The longer Charlie goes without the comfort and attention that he wants, the longer he is upset, even while getting what he wants. Last night it took us an hour to work out getting a drink of water and getting back to bed. It turned out that Charlie wanted the light turned on, wanted a specific cup (Snoopy), and he needed about 20 minutes of support until he calmed down enough for him to get over the fact that I didn't turn the light on in the first place. By the time I got him back into bed, he had at least stopped screaming and crying, but I spent another 20 minutes holding books up for him in the moonlight while he closed his eyes. This at 2 in the morning.
Did I mention that he has the flu?
Lucy just went back to school today after taking 6 days off to go through the flu. The kids and I have been hermits for the past week. It has actually been nice. Because they've been sick, they have watched way too much television and I have been getting a lot done. I'm caught up on laundry and housework. Christmas is all put away. I'm even taking a minute to blog.
Even though it's been rough dealing with the flu, it has actually been great having Lucy home and not having to shuttle everybody to lessons. I find myself feeling grateful for the recovery time. In my experience, the value in having even a somewhat orderly home is hard to overestimate.
This is NOT what we looked like.
Lots more of these kinds of moves. (Especially me.)
To be honest, though, this experience with the flowrider was pretty good, considering the last time we went (Brian's 35th?), I never even stood up. I didn't get to the point where I was relaxed on the board, but at least I could stand up on my own! Maybe in 5 years, on our third try, I will be shredding.
After Christmas vacation and Brian's birthday, I was scrambling to get caught up on the house, the laundry and putting Christmas away. This despite a LOT of help from Brian. ...I had my hands full with Charlie, who is not an easy teether. Charlie's comfort objects are attached to me, so he wants to be held all the time. His temperament is interesting. Very different from Lucy and Gabe. The longer Charlie goes without the comfort and attention that he wants, the longer he is upset, even while getting what he wants. Last night it took us an hour to work out getting a drink of water and getting back to bed. It turned out that Charlie wanted the light turned on, wanted a specific cup (Snoopy), and he needed about 20 minutes of support until he calmed down enough for him to get over the fact that I didn't turn the light on in the first place. By the time I got him back into bed, he had at least stopped screaming and crying, but I spent another 20 minutes holding books up for him in the moonlight while he closed his eyes. This at 2 in the morning.Did I mention that he has the flu?
Lucy just went back to school today after taking 6 days off to go through the flu. The kids and I have been hermits for the past week. It has actually been nice. Because they've been sick, they have watched way too much television and I have been getting a lot done. I'm caught up on laundry and housework. Christmas is all put away. I'm even taking a minute to blog.
Even though it's been rough dealing with the flu, it has actually been great having Lucy home and not having to shuttle everybody to lessons. I find myself feeling grateful for the recovery time. In my experience, the value in having even a somewhat orderly home is hard to overestimate.
Recovery by New Buffalo
(This is the song only, no cool video.)
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