Monday was a rough day.
Maybe it was the homemade chicken broth that tasted like dirt (dirt for dinner! yum!), or the red paint smeared on my table by a sneaky toddler, or the mountain of laundry, oh, the MOUNTAIN of laundry that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I closed my eyes and willed it to happen, or the fact that Daylight Saving Time just about kicked my rear and I medicated my drowsiness with several cups of too-strong coffee that left me jittery and, well, still tired.
I waited for my second wind. It didn't come.
During nap time, I prayed. I prayed for nothing supernatural, just enough strength to push through to the end of the day with my littles. Without using unkind words or putting myself in Mommy Time Out.
It was one of those days where the saying, "The days are long, but the years are short," replayed over and over in my head and I tried to savor the day. I tried. I did savor some parts. We made pretzels and that was fun. But I didn't savor all the parts. I was ready for bedtime at 4:00pm.
That's never a good sign.
At long last, the end of the day did come. I have a nightly ritual of singing over my kids after they are tucked in and Daddy has said goodnight. Right now, they each prefer a different song, and as I tucked Lydia into her little bed, I rubbed her little blonde head and sang her song.
I love you Lydia,
Oh yes I do!
I love you Lydia,
And I'll be true!
When you're not with me,
I'm ... (I pause and she jumps in and yells "PINK!" instead of "blue", every time)
Oh Lydia, I love you!
She gave me a little tired smile, and my heart started to soften. I took a deep breath and smiled back, feeling the day's tension beginning to fade. I went to Cub's room and rubbed his back and sang his song, one of my favorite old hymns that he calls his "sleepy song".
Far away in the depths of my spirit tonight,
Lies a melody, sweeter than song!
In celestial strains, it unceasingly falls,
O'er my soul, like an infinite calm.
Peace, peace, wonderful peace,
Coming down, from the Father above,
Sweep over my spirit, forever, I pray,
In fathomless billows of love.
I leaned my head against his loft bed and sighed. My heart was content. The words from Cub's "sleepy song" echoed in my heart as I made my way to the guest room, where Naomi had decided she wanted to sleep that night.
I smiled and sat down to sing, happy with the fact that the day was ending so nicely, and she smiled back, her little hands reaching for her soft pink blankie, that was partially hidden under her little pillow. I rubbed her hair and started to sing Doxology, which has become her song.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures, here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
Praise--BAM!
Naomi yanked her blanket out from under her pillow and her pointy little elbow made direct contact with my mouth. And OH. IT HURT.
I sprang up and rushed to the bathroom, and saw a bleeding lip in the mirror's reflection. I unrolled way too much toilet paper, wadded it up, and pressed it against the wound, then turned heel to see Naomi, happily snuggling with her blanket, asking me if I would please finish my song.
Yep. One of those days.
I took a deep breath and walked back to her bedside, the toilet paper adhered to my swollen lip thanks to the blood, and finished her song ... now with a bit of a lisp.
Praith Him above, ye heavenly hotht,
Praith Father, Thon, and Holy Gohth.
Amen.
So, if, perhaps, you are having or have had or are going to have a day like this, I say to you, Hang in there. Some days, success means you did crafts and learned new things and went on walks.
And some days, success means everyone survived and Mommy didn't have to go to time out.
And look! I made it to Thursday. You can do it, too.
Amen.
Have a lovely day!
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Menifee and Jellyfish.
One of the more entertaining aspects of parenthood is the opportunity to create completely unbelievable answers to ongoing and superfluous questions that come forth from little mouths all day long.
"Why is the road shaped like that?" "Where do pickles come from?" "What makes grass?"
At the beginning of the day, I'm on my game. At breakfast, the sky is blue because of reflected light particles and atmosphere and all of those things. We might even get all research-y and YouTube it. By lunch, I'm waning slightly and the sky is blue because there's air and God made the sun and oh look, a pony, and by dinner, the sky of which I have spoken all day is clearly falling on my head and I have no idea why it is green, wait, is it green? What is blue and is Dad home yet?
It is not the question itself that leaves me drooling in a cup, but, rather, it is the repetition of it, despite the fact that it has been asked and answered. And with factual knowledge being replaced by an exhausted yet over-active imagination, I mumble and explain the answer to end all questions: The sky is blue because one time a long time ago this HUGE WAVE WAS CRASHING OVER THE WHOLE EARTH and then suddenly it just FROZE. TOTALLY FROZE.
AND IT'S BLUE BECAUSE WATER IS OBVIOUSLY BLUE.
Hence, the sky is blue. One big frozen wave.
(Okay, so that one is a bit extreme. And terrifying.)
But, you get my point. Some call it lying. I call it survival of the mentally exhausted. I'm happy to report, I come by it naturally. Apparently, my parents were also guilty of tall tales when I was a kid, and, now that I am also a parent, I totally understand and they are completely forgiven. I was a jabbermouth of a kid and I can only imagine the deluge of questions with which I blessed them every day.
Here are a few of the good ones with which I grew up:
1) Short palm trees are really just tall palm trees buried in a very deep hole.
2) My pet cat, Princess, died when I was in the second grade, after attempting to run under the garage door (back before garage doors had censors) and failing to succeed. Of course, I was the one who discovered her the next day before school and my poor parents felt awful for me. Dad said he would "take care of it". In my innocent childhood mind, that clearly meant that he was going to somehow resurrect my cat (who now had a very pronounced dent in her rigor-mortified midsection) and I went to school with rather high expectations of what would be waiting for me when I came home. When I did come home, there was no Princess, and when I asked my father what had happened to her, he put his hand on my shoulder, sighed, and whispered, "She went to Menifee." I nodded solemnly and concluded that Menifee must mean Cat Heaven. For years, I mean YEARS, y'all, I thought that Menifee was Cat Heaven. And throughout those years, Menifee welcomed much more than just my cat--two rats, a hamster, and three parakeets also stepped through the pearly gates of Menifee. It wasn't until I was a teenager (and clearly over the notion of a pet heaven) that my Dad explained, on that fateful day, after our minivan had driven out of sight, he had simply shoved Princess in a trash bag, driven to city of Menifee (yeah, it's right next to the town where we used to live ... how did I not put THAT together) where he was working for the day, and threw her body in a dumpster. Nice. Where did Princess go? She died and went to Menifee.
3) When it's raining, with a little magic, windshield wipers will wipe when you point at them. We totally do this to our kids, too. Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!). HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT, MOMMY? "Magic, kids!" Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!).
4) Street lights know when to change because of the cameras on top of them. If you smile and wave, THEY CAN SEE YOU.
I believed all of them for a somewhat extended period of time, sadly. And hilariously.
Here's the deal. Before I had kids, I swore I would always be a truth-teller. But that was before I realized that you can tell them the truth until you are blue in the face AND THEY WILL KEEP ON ASKING. And then ... well, then it gets fun. Yes, jellyfish are made of jelly. I love you and here is a snack.
Did any of your parents do this, that you can remember? If so, do tell.
Have a lovely day.
"Why is the road shaped like that?" "Where do pickles come from?" "What makes grass?"
At the beginning of the day, I'm on my game. At breakfast, the sky is blue because of reflected light particles and atmosphere and all of those things. We might even get all research-y and YouTube it. By lunch, I'm waning slightly and the sky is blue because there's air and God made the sun and oh look, a pony, and by dinner, the sky of which I have spoken all day is clearly falling on my head and I have no idea why it is green, wait, is it green? What is blue and is Dad home yet?
It is not the question itself that leaves me drooling in a cup, but, rather, it is the repetition of it, despite the fact that it has been asked and answered. And with factual knowledge being replaced by an exhausted yet over-active imagination, I mumble and explain the answer to end all questions: The sky is blue because one time a long time ago this HUGE WAVE WAS CRASHING OVER THE WHOLE EARTH and then suddenly it just FROZE. TOTALLY FROZE.
AND IT'S BLUE BECAUSE WATER IS OBVIOUSLY BLUE.
Hence, the sky is blue. One big frozen wave.
(Okay, so that one is a bit extreme. And terrifying.)
But, you get my point. Some call it lying. I call it survival of the mentally exhausted. I'm happy to report, I come by it naturally. Apparently, my parents were also guilty of tall tales when I was a kid, and, now that I am also a parent, I totally understand and they are completely forgiven. I was a jabbermouth of a kid and I can only imagine the deluge of questions with which I blessed them every day.
Here are a few of the good ones with which I grew up:
1) Short palm trees are really just tall palm trees buried in a very deep hole.
2) My pet cat, Princess, died when I was in the second grade, after attempting to run under the garage door (back before garage doors had censors) and failing to succeed. Of course, I was the one who discovered her the next day before school and my poor parents felt awful for me. Dad said he would "take care of it". In my innocent childhood mind, that clearly meant that he was going to somehow resurrect my cat (who now had a very pronounced dent in her rigor-mortified midsection) and I went to school with rather high expectations of what would be waiting for me when I came home. When I did come home, there was no Princess, and when I asked my father what had happened to her, he put his hand on my shoulder, sighed, and whispered, "She went to Menifee." I nodded solemnly and concluded that Menifee must mean Cat Heaven. For years, I mean YEARS, y'all, I thought that Menifee was Cat Heaven. And throughout those years, Menifee welcomed much more than just my cat--two rats, a hamster, and three parakeets also stepped through the pearly gates of Menifee. It wasn't until I was a teenager (and clearly over the notion of a pet heaven) that my Dad explained, on that fateful day, after our minivan had driven out of sight, he had simply shoved Princess in a trash bag, driven to city of Menifee (yeah, it's right next to the town where we used to live ... how did I not put THAT together) where he was working for the day, and threw her body in a dumpster. Nice. Where did Princess go? She died and went to Menifee.
3) When it's raining, with a little magic, windshield wipers will wipe when you point at them. We totally do this to our kids, too. Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!). HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT, MOMMY? "Magic, kids!" Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!).
4) Street lights know when to change because of the cameras on top of them. If you smile and wave, THEY CAN SEE YOU.
I believed all of them for a somewhat extended period of time, sadly. And hilariously.
Here's the deal. Before I had kids, I swore I would always be a truth-teller. But that was before I realized that you can tell them the truth until you are blue in the face AND THEY WILL KEEP ON ASKING. And then ... well, then it gets fun. Yes, jellyfish are made of jelly. I love you and here is a snack.
Did any of your parents do this, that you can remember? If so, do tell.
Have a lovely day.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Snow and Lent.
It's been a long winter.
I understand, this goes without saying; however, after yesterday's episodes of "thundersleet" and powerful wind gusts carrying a negative wind chill along with them, I found myself moaning at yet another day that is too cold to go outside. Another day cooped up.
I pressed my forehead against the cold windowpanes and sighed. A lot.
Our church services were cancelled yesterday. I brewed my morning cup of coffee and turned down the hallway where our calendar hangs on the wall. My eyes searched the days, stopping over Wednesday.
Lent begins this week.
I've said it before: I am always ready for Lent. After winter's footprint has left its deep impression on my corner of the world, my heart aches for growth, for hope. And, as mentioned above, this year is no exception.
I did not come by Lent until I was a college student, so I'm careful about how I present it in our home, as it is not a part of the tradition in our place of worship--I want my kids to decide later in life if it's something for them. For me, it is a fast. No meat, with the exception of seafood. A practice that points my heart towards Christ and the cross throughout the day for forty days, through prayer and memorization (this year I am memorizing 2 Corinthians 4, a passage I memorized as a child but have mostly forgotten--I would love for you to join me!).
For my kids, Lent is about anticipation. Our paper chain countdown to Resurrection Sunday is hung on our mantle. I have recipes for Shrove Tuesday's pancakes (thanks to Jerusalem Greer's "A Homemade Year", given to me by a dear friend...and maybe we'll do a King Cake, too) and small activities of service we can do throughout the 40-day period.
As winter stretches forward, pushing itself into March, I realize that I set the tone for our home. My sinful heart is grumbly and angsty, but, when I allow myself to be settled and still, God's quiet voice nudges me towards gratitude. A warm home. Food to eat. And the conviction quiets my heart.
It is only appropriate that this last (maybe?) burst of winter arrived right before Lent. It is a tangible example of the barrenness of a world in need of Christ, a representation of the soul longing for the hope that can only come from Him.
Do you celebrate Lent in you family? If so, how?
Have a lovely day, friends.
Also...hang in there. :)
I understand, this goes without saying; however, after yesterday's episodes of "thundersleet" and powerful wind gusts carrying a negative wind chill along with them, I found myself moaning at yet another day that is too cold to go outside. Another day cooped up.
I pressed my forehead against the cold windowpanes and sighed. A lot.
Our church services were cancelled yesterday. I brewed my morning cup of coffee and turned down the hallway where our calendar hangs on the wall. My eyes searched the days, stopping over Wednesday.
Lent begins this week.
I've said it before: I am always ready for Lent. After winter's footprint has left its deep impression on my corner of the world, my heart aches for growth, for hope. And, as mentioned above, this year is no exception.
I did not come by Lent until I was a college student, so I'm careful about how I present it in our home, as it is not a part of the tradition in our place of worship--I want my kids to decide later in life if it's something for them. For me, it is a fast. No meat, with the exception of seafood. A practice that points my heart towards Christ and the cross throughout the day for forty days, through prayer and memorization (this year I am memorizing 2 Corinthians 4, a passage I memorized as a child but have mostly forgotten--I would love for you to join me!).
For my kids, Lent is about anticipation. Our paper chain countdown to Resurrection Sunday is hung on our mantle. I have recipes for Shrove Tuesday's pancakes (thanks to Jerusalem Greer's "A Homemade Year", given to me by a dear friend...and maybe we'll do a King Cake, too) and small activities of service we can do throughout the 40-day period.
As winter stretches forward, pushing itself into March, I realize that I set the tone for our home. My sinful heart is grumbly and angsty, but, when I allow myself to be settled and still, God's quiet voice nudges me towards gratitude. A warm home. Food to eat. And the conviction quiets my heart.
It is only appropriate that this last (maybe?) burst of winter arrived right before Lent. It is a tangible example of the barrenness of a world in need of Christ, a representation of the soul longing for the hope that can only come from Him.
Do you celebrate Lent in you family? If so, how?
Have a lovely day, friends.
Also...hang in there. :)
Monday, February 24, 2014
What-Ifs.
This past week has been a sad week. We've mourned with loved ones who have lost--some too soon, some at the end of a rich and beautiful life. When a deluge of heartbreak falls into our lives, I find myself scrambling to make sense of it.
My sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Matuskey, used to have a saying: "I don't deal with what-ifs". If we found cause for panic and began rambling, "What if this? What if that?!", she would simply shrug and reply, "I don't deal with what-ifs."
She was one of my favorite teachers. That could be a blog post in and of itself.
But I found myself thinking back to her classroom and her words. I see now, as an adult, what she was saying. There will always be unpredictables in life. Things that happen beyond our control. And if we immerse ourselves in the suffocating murkiness of worry and doubt, we will find ourself continually plagued by our inability to be in control. And we will want to shirk away and hide, failing to see the bigger picture and God's goodness in it.
But God has greater things for us. The hope of heaven. Believing that all things work together for a greater purpose. And these are the truths we cling to when we see those around us hurting. "What if that were to happen to me? What if?" And I am reminded of God's charge to us to not worry. To trust His Sovereign plan, even when we ache.
Because He aches, too.
And He will wipe away every tear from their eyes;
and there will no longer be any death;
there will no longer be any mourning,
or crying,
or pain;
the first things have passed away.
Revelation 21:4
My mind is with those loved ones today.
My sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Matuskey, used to have a saying: "I don't deal with what-ifs". If we found cause for panic and began rambling, "What if this? What if that?!", she would simply shrug and reply, "I don't deal with what-ifs."
She was one of my favorite teachers. That could be a blog post in and of itself.
But I found myself thinking back to her classroom and her words. I see now, as an adult, what she was saying. There will always be unpredictables in life. Things that happen beyond our control. And if we immerse ourselves in the suffocating murkiness of worry and doubt, we will find ourself continually plagued by our inability to be in control. And we will want to shirk away and hide, failing to see the bigger picture and God's goodness in it.
But God has greater things for us. The hope of heaven. Believing that all things work together for a greater purpose. And these are the truths we cling to when we see those around us hurting. "What if that were to happen to me? What if?" And I am reminded of God's charge to us to not worry. To trust His Sovereign plan, even when we ache.
Because He aches, too.
And He will wipe away every tear from their eyes;
and there will no longer be any death;
there will no longer be any mourning,
or crying,
or pain;
the first things have passed away.
Revelation 21:4
My mind is with those loved ones today.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Confrontation and Common Core.
If you know anything about me, you know that confrontation isn't exactly my strong suit.
A long time ago, as two of my friends were in a heated disagreement, I found myself in my friend's home office, hiding under the desk, on the phone with my husband, whispering vehemently that I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO THEY ARE FIGHTING AND I AM UNDER A DESK. Once the situation resolved itself, I emerged from the hallway, stating that I had taken a bit of a long time in the bathroom.
Brave, yes?
I am happy to report that my insecurity has lessened quite a bit since having children. Parenthood is full of disagreeing ideals and I have learned that you can sit on one side of the fence while still waving at the other--no need to be hateful. We won't always agree on things. We just won't. But, when it comes to my children, I will stand firm when something comes into play that I believe compromises their well-being. And, I find that the older I get, the more convicted I am to put feet to my thoughts and action to my words.
I precede this post with that tidbit of introspection because I want you to know where I am coming from.
This past Monday, I, along with other mothers, fathers, teachers, and administrators, rode a bus to our state capitol to join over a thousand concerned constituents who were protesting the implementation of Common Core Standards in our state's schools, both public and private. If you have not looked at that website, please do. We sat in on Education Committee meetings, lined the hallways of our Senators' offices, and spoke to representatives. We encouraged them to hear the bills that pertain to Common Core, including parents' right to opt their student(s) out of state testing.
I don't want to go into great detail about it because this blog is not about politics, but I do want to say this: If you have a child who is in school, who is going to be in school, or if you live in a state where they have schools, or if you know someone who has a kid who is in a school, or if you know someone who wants to maybe someday have a kid who is in school, or if you are currently breathing and have a pulse, please READ UP ON COMMON CORE. Know how it is being implemented in your schools.
I do not like Common Core because of the one-size-fits-all curriculum that is ONLY geared towards success on the tests. It's all about standardized tests. Speaking of curriculum, who's writing it? And how much money is being made from producing it? The kids are being taught how to pass standardized tests with methods and a curriculum that are lukewarm at best. The expectations for the kids are not age-appropriate (can your kindergartner read? and write?) or developmentally appropriate. And, politically speaking, this isn't a one-party ordeal--members of both parties are frustrated by Common Core--just ask New York.
Oh, and just because your state may say it is not implementing "Common Core", check the details behind their state standards. Chances are, it's Common Core, with a different name.
I am not an educator. I'm just a Mom. A Mom with kids who are in a private school that does not use Common Core. Yet. But to think that those facts exempt me from involvement is naive and ludicrous. I witnessed the process at the capitol--private and home education are at risk, too. Having the attitude "it will never happen to us" is exactly why it will.
How can you be involved? Call your reps. Read up on Common Core. Talk to your kids' teachers and administrators. Know the material being taught.
Okay. Now I am stepping off my soap box, straightening my cereal-bar encrusted sweatpants, and going about my business as a stay-at-home Mom of three.
After calling my representative. :)
Have a lovely day.
A long time ago, as two of my friends were in a heated disagreement, I found myself in my friend's home office, hiding under the desk, on the phone with my husband, whispering vehemently that I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO THEY ARE FIGHTING AND I AM UNDER A DESK. Once the situation resolved itself, I emerged from the hallway, stating that I had taken a bit of a long time in the bathroom.
Brave, yes?
I am happy to report that my insecurity has lessened quite a bit since having children. Parenthood is full of disagreeing ideals and I have learned that you can sit on one side of the fence while still waving at the other--no need to be hateful. We won't always agree on things. We just won't. But, when it comes to my children, I will stand firm when something comes into play that I believe compromises their well-being. And, I find that the older I get, the more convicted I am to put feet to my thoughts and action to my words.
I precede this post with that tidbit of introspection because I want you to know where I am coming from.
This past Monday, I, along with other mothers, fathers, teachers, and administrators, rode a bus to our state capitol to join over a thousand concerned constituents who were protesting the implementation of Common Core Standards in our state's schools, both public and private. If you have not looked at that website, please do. We sat in on Education Committee meetings, lined the hallways of our Senators' offices, and spoke to representatives. We encouraged them to hear the bills that pertain to Common Core, including parents' right to opt their student(s) out of state testing.
I don't want to go into great detail about it because this blog is not about politics, but I do want to say this: If you have a child who is in school, who is going to be in school, or if you live in a state where they have schools, or if you know someone who has a kid who is in a school, or if you know someone who wants to maybe someday have a kid who is in school, or if you are currently breathing and have a pulse, please READ UP ON COMMON CORE. Know how it is being implemented in your schools.
I do not like Common Core because of the one-size-fits-all curriculum that is ONLY geared towards success on the tests. It's all about standardized tests. Speaking of curriculum, who's writing it? And how much money is being made from producing it? The kids are being taught how to pass standardized tests with methods and a curriculum that are lukewarm at best. The expectations for the kids are not age-appropriate (can your kindergartner read? and write?) or developmentally appropriate. And, politically speaking, this isn't a one-party ordeal--members of both parties are frustrated by Common Core--just ask New York.
Oh, and just because your state may say it is not implementing "Common Core", check the details behind their state standards. Chances are, it's Common Core, with a different name.
I am not an educator. I'm just a Mom. A Mom with kids who are in a private school that does not use Common Core. Yet. But to think that those facts exempt me from involvement is naive and ludicrous. I witnessed the process at the capitol--private and home education are at risk, too. Having the attitude "it will never happen to us" is exactly why it will.
Okay. Now I am stepping off my soap box, straightening my cereal-bar encrusted sweatpants, and going about my business as a stay-at-home Mom of three.
After calling my representative. :)
Have a lovely day.
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