Becoming Secondary

Sometimes, there is a downside to working in hospice and it is different than what you might think.  It's not too much death or dying, but a hyper-awareness of time in my normal every-day living.

Nothing brings this home more than when I'm trying to track down my percussionist in the orbit of high school marching band when I can't get him on the phone.

Does that seem like a weird set of circumstances to bring the old sand-filled hourglass center stage?

I'm hoping I can explain, and figure it out for myself at the same time...

I get to meet people in the evening of life on a routine basis.  Very often, they've become secondary to the people in their lives for whom they were primary for a good long while.  Spouses and kids, mostly.  They were wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, and their best years were the same years I'm living now.  But, their people slowly moved on.  They were moved from the center of their lives to the periphery, and became someone to check in on, rather than someone to be included and enjoyed.

My eyes are wide open to this shift.  I'm becoming aware of the people in my life who may feel like they've been dropped in a secondary slot, permanently.  I am still primary for my children because I can drive and grocery shop and facilitate everything that is important to them.  But, I am inching my way to the periphery and every time I'm holding my phone and there is no answer on the other end, I know.

An unscheduled weekend rolls in and feels like a blessing and a curse because time together is so important.  But, finding more than two people who want to do the same thing is a chore and getting all five to agree is nearly impossible.

So, we compromise. 

At the river, a couple of us fished down the bank a little ways, I sat on an uncomfortable rock until my butt hurt and then filled a trash bag with other people's trash, while someone else threw rocks at spiders the size of grapefruits, hoping to pass a few minutes while noting, "this is the-most-redneck-vacation."  It seemed like the best bonding moment was our unanimous relief to be back home, savoring the memory that we created.  Mainly, that we didn't want to go back there any time soon.  No discussion needed.
 
Sunday kept us altogether for breakfast and Mass, but separate for the rest due to attractions that couldn't be resisted and commitments that needed to be kept.  But, fortunately for me, my plans included sitting poolside and holding a baby for a couple of hours which seemed to slow time a bit.  Gratefully.

Unless I am hitting Sonic at Happy Hour, there are few things my boys are interested in joining me for, and doing things as a family is, well, usually a compromise for most of us.  So, I sit on the futon as long as anyone will sit by me, deliver pigs in a blanket to a fort in the woods, change my schedule to steal a lunch date at Subway, and go to the skate park when it's almost dark because "they have lights, you know".

I know I am becoming secondary.  Just in little moments for now, but they are coming more frequently and I know they will keep coming, as they should.  Occasionally, someone will notice a little tear and recognize that I'm not okay and while I'm trying to find the words to explain, they decide they didn't really want an explanation, anyway.  And I'm relieved, because I couldn't really explain it, anyway.

My Trampoline Burn

I got a trampoline burn today.  This is worth noticing because you have to be on a trampoline to get a trampoline burn, and well, it's been quite a long time.  I probably would have declined the invitation to jump, as I have so many times before, but over the last couple of days, I've been wading through old photographs and videos.  Man, the videos!  We were all gathered around our tiny laptop computer in awe of days gone by.  The little bodies, the voices, the quirks, the enthusiasm, the batman masks, and spiderman costumes year round.  The kiddie pool turned gravel pit, the hours playing in the sprinkler with light sabers, cushions on the floor and jumping on the couch. 

We have lived in the same house for most of my sons' lives.  We're all the same people, but we're not.  What is more is we don't really even remember those people.  Something happened to time overnight.  We have lived so many moments up 'til now.  Some that have turned into memories jogged with a picture or video, and many more that won't.  But, they all count because they've brought us here and built what we have, although we could never fully explain or describe exactly how that happened because we've forgotten most of it.

Like this morning.  I woke up, had a cup of coffee, and made "apple biscuits" for breakfast.  The boys were thrilled, since I seldom make them and didn't tell them I was.  I got to enjoy each one coming in, figuring it out for themselves, and being the recipient of their spontaneous hugs of gratitude. 

It's sort of hard to believe I will forget these simple moments of joy, but sort of not.  They are surrounded by so many others just like them.  I read once that "there is no treaure in a pile", but in this case, it is a pile of treasure.  The word "gratitude" seems so paltry. 

Living life forward is such a gift.  It may seem like the only way to live, since it is the only way time seems to travel in real life.  But, as for so many, a time will come when the best part of our lives will be reflecting on, revisiting, and enjoying the memories we're making now. 

One day (hopefully 50 years from now), a hospice social worker is going to come to my home and write a narrative.  In a couple of paragraphs, you will know who I've loved, who I've lost, what is/was important to me in my life, and who is responsible for me now.  The remaining details of my life will be in the hearts of those I've loved, and nowhere else.  Apple biscuits and all the rest...     

So, yes, I will jump on the trampoline with you, while I still can.  And I will treasure the trampoline burn, until we all forget it ever happened. 

Thanking the Virtual Bus Driver - A Little Fortnite Reflection

I overheard one of my sons tell his brother, "You need to thank the bus driver!" in a brotherly, motherly, bossy sort of way.  The brother retorted that he always says that and how annoying it is.  I was intrigued, because this taken-for-granted bus driver, is a virtual bus driver that you never see, "driving" a flying bus over an island where people jump out or get kicked off at the last stop, to outrun a storm, build unthinkable shelters, collect guns, shields, and potions from treasure chests that emit a sound apparently only kids can hear, all to help your friends and kill your enemies, driven by lust for Victory Royale - the moniker for bragging rights, which belong to the last man standing.

Welcome to the widely-discussed, highly-addictive, continually-evolving, and infamous video game called Fortnite.  Sadly, I didn't have to do any research to write the above paragraph.  I have three sons.  We have one TV.  They all get their turn(s), and that makes me an expert by association and location (depending on where I decide to sit).  Oh, to be a paid professional in the taking-turns-business!

There are lots of ways to mitigate this, but the most fun is ridiculously hoping that they'll just get tired of it and go old school.  Resort to playing marbles, jacks, or Red Rover, Red Rover, send those three boys right over.  But, no.  The geniuses of Fortnite make some magical and highly-anticipated changes to the game every week.  Tuesday, if you really want to know.

When it comes to my boys, video games are both my friend and enemy, which makes them exactly like every other bit of technology in my life.  As with most things, I think moderation is the key, but unfortunately, most of us are bad at it.  Perhaps a discussion for another day?

If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the bus driver...One son is demanding that another thank the bus driver.  The third one listens, but doesn't chime in.  Later, one of them had the opportunity to revive a teammate and he didn't do it.  His brothers were incensed, as was I when I learned how easy it was for him to do it and how "cruel" it was not to.  We expressed our concern clearly and with great conviction.  My husband came in wondering what the fuss was all about.  The boys told him and he laughed.  A great reminder that peer pressure starts at home, but even then, sometimes 3 out of 4 is the best you can do...

In the middle of all of this thanking/not thanking, reviving/not reviving and the chastising that came with it, it occurred to me that despite the excessive video game playing in our living room, our values are still the ones being worked out, played by, and fought for (except the one where we don't kill our enemies).  In a world that is increasingly grey and video games are bad, maybe we're getting away with something-- Like finding some good old-fashioned black-and-white where no one is looking for it.

You should thank the bus driver and if you don't, you're going to hear about it.  A bunch of times.

You revive your teammate every time it is within your power to do so.

You take turns.

You answer for poor judgment.

And if any discussion pertaining to the above subject matter does not end with your mother's complete satisfaction, a brother is always available to assist with the power button, especially if it is in the middle of your game.

   

Day After Day, Week After Week, Month After Month, Year After Year...

I finished a book today that I bought four years ago for my husband.  It was recommended by a beloved priest then, and again last week by my spiritual director.  

It reminded me of something I used to know and how it inspired me when I learned of it, and motivated me to practice it consciously, at least for a little while.

The vision of the kingdom, the call of Christ to labor and suffer with him, has overtones of a great and noble crusade - yet we must each of us translate that vision and retain that spirit in the routine, humdrum events of every day...one day at a time, frustrated and perhaps discouraged, each twenty-four hours filled with as many defeats and frustrations as victories, each hour made up of sixty minutes of humdrum things and little people busy and concerned about many other things, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year...

...Each day, every day of our lives, God presents to us the people and opportunities upon which he expects us to act.  He expects no more of us, but he will accept nothing less of us; and we fail in our promise and commitment if we do not see in the situations of every moment of every day as his divine will...

I simply cannot be reminded of this enough.  Brother Lawrence in the The Practice of the Presence of God and Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade in Abandonment to Divine Providence have been two great teachers for me on the subject.  But, I read them so long ago, and had forgotten, again.  So, thank you, Fr. Walter Ciszek for reminding me, yet again, to celebrate the sacrament of the present moment!  

Wrapping up Memorial weekend and kicking off a summer with boys ushers in a lot of memorable moments...

Like trying to build a hobbit house under a trampoline

Hanging out with friends and explosives

Launching a cardboard paratrooper from a rooftop

Shooting an AR-15

Fishing, again.

And finding a little beauty in a fungus for me, in the middle of all this boy stuff

And these are just from the last two days.  But, I know there are exponentially more unphotographed and unrecognized moments than photographed and fully present ones.  That's okay.  It will always be that way.  But, the gap doesn't have to retain its seismic features.  I can close it, little by little.  Not by taking more pictures, but by being present and remembering, believing that the details are the expressed work of God.  

This is not easy, but for me, very worthwhile.  If I can work to believe that God is at work in my life (because, sometimes it is work), all of the moments that come to us, come with their own sense of peace and joy.  People, places, inconveniences, and drastic changes in the plan can be received with new energy and acceptance when considered as the will of God, hand-delivered.  

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!  

Mark 9:24

   

The Fish, The Calendar, and The Hood - Happy Mother's Day!

Mother's Day is upon us and I have to admit I always feel a little giddy when it rolls around.  I know it's going to be a good day, for sure.  Because, along with my birthday, it is one of two days out of the year I don't cook and I don't feel guilty about not cooking.  Cards?  Probably.  Gifts?  Probably not. Not cooking?  Definitely.  Every time.  Happy Mother's Day to me...

Today, motherhood looked like this.

I caught this catfish.  It bit my bait on my line on my fishing pole and I reeled it in until it was completely out of the water and laying on the sidewalk.  My son told me to text the picture to my husband and tell him he caught it.  I texted the picture, but didn't write anything.  My  husband assumed my son caught it.  I was going to let that ride.  At least until we got home.

But, then.  Then my son, who prides himself on being a fisherman, told a fellow fisherman that he technically caught it, because he saw it first.  Oh, no.  Nope.  This was the biggest fish I've ever caught in my life. So, today, motherhood was a little private conversation in hushed tones about not taking credit for things you don't earn and giving credit where credit was due, and "You're not the only person who can catch a fish around here."

Yet another picture perfect example of feeling like a great parent and a jerk all at the same time.  Say cheese.

Not long ago, there was another conversation.  This one was about basketball and the place it holds in a person's life.  This "game" was soiling attitudes, self-image, brotherhood, motherhood, and annihilating character like no game ever should.  So, this mother painted a pretty good picture of a basketball-less life and closed the conversation with a fiery ceremony burning all of the negativity written down (as an I'll-be-waiting-for-you-to-show-it-to-me-when-you're-finished-assignment), up.  Burned it up.  For real.

Haven't heard one negative comment since.

I heard once, that convincing your kids that you're crazy, can encourage obedience and good behavior.  They don't know what that one thing is, that is going to make you crack.  I think it's working.

Also working, is this...

This is the fruit of my silent retreat this year.  Intentionality.  Each day of the week, every week of the year, one of my guy's names is written down.  That is my cue to make an effort to engage with them for at least 15 minutes, in a way that makes them happy.  

This was going along beautifully, and unannounced, for about a month.  Then, one of the boys saw my calendar.  Hey!  Why is each of our names written down on your calendar?  I explained.  

Word traveled fast.  It's been several months now, and talk about accountability.  Sheesh!  "Mom, whose special day is it today?"  It's 9:00pm.  "Umm, it's yours, but since it's so late, let's do it tomorrow and I'll double your time."  Say cheese.

It's eye-opening to see who always gets their time, on time, and who often gets overlooked.  Gotta be careful about those "easy" ones!  They just don't demand much, and can slip through without a lot of fuss.  Yikes.  Accountability might be just the thing. 

But, kids and husbands aren't the only ones who get overlooked.  I just realized (and we're a couple of months in, here) that my name is not on my calendar.  What was I thinking?!  There's nothing like celebrating Mother's Day to encourage a little self-care.  Next year, for sure.  It's not like anyone else has a calendar with my name on it.  Next year.  Hold me to it, will you?

If you know me, you know I love quotes.  I only have one quote about motherhood, but it is definitely my favorite.  And not just because it was my son who said it.  Or because I know what it means. Even after trying to get him to explain, I'm still not sure.   

Rough, with walls filled with drawings done when no one was looking and difficult to escape?  

If so, I think he nailed it.

"Motherhood is like any other kind of hood."  

Happy Mother's Day from the Hood!

(whatever that means...)

From Hobby Lobby to the Dentist: All You Need to Know About Parenting

Today was the perfect day to describe parenthood in all its wonder.

Event #1:  I was at Hobby Lobby with my three boys to spend my gift card on some twine they needed to make bracelets.  Of course, each boy found some great clearance item they couldn't live without, so I agreed to chip in $5.00 for each one, and they would pay the rest.

On our way to check out, I bumped into an old friend, who had three kids in her cart and one by her side.  We talked about summer, school, her working out and me not, and the like.  During this conversation, her children didn't make a peep nor show one ounce of impatience, and her oldest is one year younger than my youngest.

Meanwhile, my boys were playing grab-ass, which ended with nutcrackers on the floor (Yes, Christmas stuff is out already), some very misplaced blame (Me!), and an embarrassed and ticked off someone (Me, again!).

I commended my friend for her well-behaved children.  She graciously thanked me and said that they often behaved more like mine, and we parted ways.

My boys and I had an emergency meeting the next aisle over in very hushed tones, the fruit of which was a silent march back to the clearance section, a return of all items that minutes before couldn't have been lived without, and a long, quiet ride home.

Parenting conclusion #1:  My boys are unbelievably ill-behaved and not at all suited to going out in public.  I am definitely doing something wrong.

Event #2:  After arriving home from Hobby Lobby, I assembled a birthday gift for my niece.  While I was doing so, my youngest decided he wanted to give everyone in our neighborhood a gift, to make them happy.  (I think after leaving Hobby Lobby empty-handed, he was acutely aware of how much the world at large was in need of happiness)!

I told him a note would accomplish the same thing and he instantaneously became an author, illustrator, Santa Claus, mailman, and delinquent.  He wrote and illustrated notes, walked to the neighbors' homes, rang the doorbell, dropped his happiness, and ran!  Fortunately, I'm friends with one of these neighbors on Facebook, so I copied his picture from his post thanking whoever it was.  He tagged me, so I guess he had a pretty good idea...                                          



Parenting conclusion #2:  I have one very thoughtful son.  Maybe I'm not totally failing as a parent.

Event #3:  4:00pm.  Dentist appointments for all three.  For the first time ever, I didn't go back with them - probably because I was still recovering from Hobby Lobby.  So, I stayed in the waiting area, availing myself of the Keurig-love and pretended I was on vacation. When they were all finished, the dentist and her staff came out to brief me, and they all gushed about how well-behaved and polite the boys were, and could I teach them how to train their kids like that? Ha!

Parenting conclusion #3:  I'm the best parent in the world!!!  Not really.  More like, don't trust the dentist!  Not really.  More like...my kids are like me and all of our fellow earthlings...Not as bad or as good as they seem in any given moment.  There but for the grace of God, go we.   

Mother's Day Ramblings

Waking up to the dream of motherhood yesterday morning:

"Mom, the cat threw up on Bman's jacket."
(I'm still in bed)  "Where is it?"
"On the couch."
"Ok, Don't touch it."

While I was lying in bed feeling grateful that the cat threw up on something that could just be picked up, and nothing needed to be wiped down, a parade of boys started coming in my room with "Happy Mother's Day" wishes, and throwing stuff on me.  Stuff I couldn't see because my glasses were still on my bedside table.  But, when I put my glasses on, I saw the stuff.  The stuff included big and little "Happy Mother's Day!" messages with hearts on poster board, a handmade pan flute made from bamboo (which they cut down at the park and normally use for making spears), and 12 cents that my youngest happened to be holding in his hand when he came in.  Awesome.

It reminded me of something I read on Facebook yesterday that was something like, "When a child gives you something, receive it with a tremendous amount of gratitude.  It might be the only thing they have to give and they're giving it to you."   Amen. 

Normally, I'm not much into "things" and have the grace to accept "what is".  But yesterday, I hosted a table at the most beautiful brunch you can imagine.  I've hosted tables before, but I always used someone else's stuff because I'm not good at decorating, I don't have nice stuff, blah, blah, blah.  But, this year, I dug out all of my Mom's china to see if I could pull it off.  With the exception of the glasses and the silverware and the flowers and the statue, I did.


And I was caught off-guard by the sudden memories of myself as a little girl, eating cherry cheesecake on those pretty little plates.  Added to my surprise, I found myself misty-eyed, missing my Mom.  Not because I never miss her, but because she was miss-ing.  She belonged around that table with her china that she hasn't seen in over 20 years, that her Mom bought at the grocery store, a little at a time.  But, wishing she was there is a lot easier than actually getting her there.  She has to have a caregiver to travel anywhere, and that caregiver has a family of her own, so a 10-hour drive for a weekend getaway is a little tricky to pull off.  However, next year we need to make it happen.  She belongs there with her china.  And with me. 

Just like I belong with my boys.  But, not like I used to.  Not all close and snuggly like days gone by.  I used to play with them and chase them around the house, but now I mostly chase them off of video games and TV screens.  They would rather do a lot of things than do something with me.  Maybe because my something is going to the grocery store or folding laundry.  They don't want to play board games, and I don't want to play guns.  I will jump on the trampoline, but it seems like they usually ask me when I'm making dinner, so I end up feeling like the "No" queen.

It's at these times, I find myself wanting to love them better by spending more time with them, but it seems I'm too busy taking care of them.  Sometimes, it's hard that love has to give what is needed, which is not necessarily what it wants to give.  Jesus says in Matthew 25:34-35 "...Come, you who are blessed by my Father.  Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me."  These things matter because these are ways we love well.  As mothers, fortunately for us (by God's design), we love this way every. single. day. 

However, of all the things I do for my boys, I think the most important thing is something that no one sees.  And that something is prayer.  Prayer for them.  I cut this prayer from our church bulletin awhile back and pray it every morning.  It seems to touch on all of the things that matter.  I want to share it with you, in case you'd like to pray it, too:

Pope Francis:

A Parent's Prayer for

Their Children 

 

O Heavenly Father,

I commend my children

unto Thee.

 

Be Thou their God and

Father; and mercifully

supply whatever is wanting

in me through frailty

or negligence.

 

Strengthen them to

overcome the corruptions of

the world, to resist all

solicitations to evil, whether

from within or without; and

deliver them from the secret

snares of the enemy.

 

Pour Thy grace into their

hearts, and confirm and

multiply in them the gifts of

Thy Holy Spirit, that they

may daily grow in grace and

in the knowledge of our

Lord Jesus Christ; and so,

faithfully serving Thee here,

may come to rejoice in Thy

presence hereafter.

Amen.

As I'm starting my seventh week of my hospital chaplain internship, I am more-aware-than-ever of the gifts of life, love, health, and family.  If we have even one of these things, we are blessed.  If we  could live in the reality of how blessed we are, our gratitude would demand that we spend every bit of ourselves trying to pay it forward or pay it back.


Dear Creator, Redeemer, Savior, and Friend,

Thank you for the gift of motherhood, the gift of life, the gift of love, the gift of health, and the gift of family.  Please continue to guide us and lead us in this sublime role of parenting.  It is the best way  out of ourselves and into You.  Please bless all who are missing their children this day, whether they've gone ahead to meet you or are just far away.  Please grant us the continuous grace to remain in the knowledge that the children you entrust to us are never really "ours".  They have been Yours and will always be Yours.  Help us do well by them, and lead them back to You.  Amen.

Six Thoughts in Four Days

My youngest brother got married yesterday.  His wedding was as beautiful as his bride, who was so beautiful, I cried when I saw her.  They are perfect for each other and I was beyond proud to be a part of it.

We got home from Kansas a few hours ago and my mind is busy with thoughts from the last four days.  Being in a different environment with a lot of different people gave me some food for thought.

Thought 1:  I don't like being around drunk people.  It sounds harsh, but I don't respect them.  I'm trying to put my finger on it, but I think it's a combination of a lack of self-control, the transformation from something genuine to something less so, and the idea of drinking to an end.  The actual enjoyment of drinking seems to get lost in the pursuit of getting drunk.  It reminds me of those people who compete in eating contests.  They don't eat to enjoy the food, they eat to eat a lot.  40 hotdogs in how many minutes?  Blech. 

And yet, I envy their ability to enjoy themselves without regard for anyone else.  I love the idea of blending in with the crowd, and enjoying myself in a room full of tipsy people.  But, all I really want to do is run away, which makes me feel a bit like an uptight spinster, a prude, and a freak.

Maybe I'm missing out.  I've never even had a good buzz, much less been drunk.  I can't get past feeling my eyes move around in my head after one wine cooler.  And how do people drink so much beer (or any liquid) without their stomachs crying out in protest?  I can't imagine drinking 3 or 6 or 10 sodas in a row.  There's something about it that is totally beyond me.  All I really know, is that it has a lot of power over people, especially ones I love.  And it is a power I loathe and distrust.

Thought 2:  I love my husband.  A lot.  And my family loves him.  A lot.  But, he doesn't sit well for any length of time and he likes to be in his own house.  We were only at my parent's for four full days.  He was ready to go home at the end of day 2.  I usually want to know how he's feeling, good or bad.  But, I would rather not know this.  When I realize it, I pick up and carry the burden of him wishing he were elsewhere.  It disturbs my peace and dampens my joy.  If I dwell on it, I begin to feel like he's stealing something from me.  Something that I already have precious little of.  Time with my family - who lives ten hours away - who I see about three times a year. 

To be fair, there are two sides to every story, and I know I am not an attentive wife and mother when we go there.  I'm distracted by conversation with whoever happens by, and busy sketching the plan of how to fit everyone in.  Meanwhile, he's being hen-pecked (rooster-pecked?) by boys who want to ride the four-wheeler and shoot fireworks and start a fire and be pushed on the swing.  Based on that alone, I can see why it isn't exactly the vacation for him that it is for me.  But, it would be nice if it were.

Thought 3:  I never thought I could get tired of hearing good things about myself or anyone else.  But, I can.  On all accounts.  I don't tire of thinking good things about others, but I do tire of talking about them.

Thought 4:  My boys are growing up.  They need me for little and want me for the same.  So, after no nap and an unsuccessful search for "Bear", his best friend and constant companion, my 4-year-old fell asleep on me at the wedding reception.  This is the boy who doesn't give hugs and kisses anymore and loves to tell me how pretty I don't look.  He slept so hard, he peed his pants, and mine.  I was in heaven, just the same.

They really do grow up.  As parents of young children, we're careful to record our baby's and toddler's "firsts".  First tooth, first word, first step, first haircut, etc...  But there are as many "lasts" as there are firsts.  (Like, maybe, hopefully not, but maybe, holding a pee-soaked 4-year-old on your lap for the last time).  Lasts just aren't so obvious.  And that's a good thing because we might never stop crying over the things that will be no more.

Thought 5:  On the other end of life, I reminisced with one of my Dad's old friends about water fights and days gone by.  He's been doing the chemo/radiation routine to fight cancer for awhile now.  There's no hope of eradicating it, they're just trying to slow it down.  When we said goodbye, he said, "I hope to see you again while I'm still alive."  I choked back the tears and said, "Me, too", knowing that I wouldn't.

Saying your last goodbye to a dying man in the middle of a party isn't something that makes any emotional sense.  This man and his wife were the couple who "caught" the bouquet at my wedding.  We gave it to the couple who had been married the longest, and that was ten years ago.  While the young newlyweds danced the night away on hearts full of promise and dreams, time is running out for a man and wife who have lived them, and tucked them away.  They still have promises and dreams, but they are for eternity and those they'll leave behind. 

Thought 6:  I regret not slow-dancing with my husband.  I assumed we would early on, but I ended up holding my son, talking, or cleaning up.  When I realized that it was almost time to leave, I listened intently for a good slow-dance song, but one never came.  By the end of the night, I only danced to one song, and that was with my brother, the groom - for a dollar.

I should have done better than that.  I guess we don't have to wait for somebody to get married to dance.  We have music and a hardwood floor at home.  But, we also have a TV, and a computer, and little kids.  Maybe we just need a date night...



Dear Author of all that is good,

Thank you for our safe travel today.  Thank you for the guardian angels who watched over us.  Thank you for my little brother and his new wife.  Please watch over them as they leave for their honeymoon tomorrow, and all the days of their lives.  Thank you for families that just keep growing.  Thank you for parents who pray and invest in their kids, and in their kids' kids.  Please bless Ed and his wife as he continues treatment.  Thank you for their example and their love. 

Thank you for the freedom we have in this country.  Please help us to use it in a way that pleases You.  Thank you for fireworks, and every other reason we have to cast our eyes heavenward. 

Lord, please grant me wisdom and compassion where alcohol is concerned.  I don't know what I don't know, and I need You to show me. 

Lord, please help me to be grateful for "what is", so that I may not live with regret when it is no longer.  In Your Wisdom, you spared us the constant awareness of those things that slip away from us.  Thank You.  Please help me redeem the mistakes I've made this past week in the week ahead.  And please bless my family, friends, and all whom I include in my poor prayers.  Amen.

Living In the Kitchen

My niece moved here a few weeks ago.  She sleeps at my mother-in-law's house (2 doors down), but spends a lot of her time here.  She's learning what life looks like at the Dixon residence.  As she walked in last night, she said, "Every time I come over here, you are standing in the kitchen."  I agreed, and we sat down to dinner.  After dinner, I was back in the kitchen, and she asked on her way out, "Is your life fulfilling?"

I said "Yes" (after making a mental note of the magnitude of this question, and the cynicism dripping from her voice), rattled off something about how important it is, and then toyed with her question through the night and most of today.

Do I find my life to be fulfilling?

What is fulfilling about "living" in the kitchen?   Preparing and cleaning up after meals three times a day, 341 (365 -24 if you eat out twice a month) days of the year.  1023 times if you're really into Math...There are definitely other areas of my life that don't involve the kitchen, but it really is the biggest part of what I do.  Biggest in terms of time, and biggest in terms of mental energy!

Some people might find it fulfilling because they're really good at it, or maybe it is a form of artistic expression for them.  Others may love it, simply because they love food.

Three strikes, here.  I don't find "living" in the kitchen to be fulfilling for any of these reasons.

As time has passed, I have come to realize it is necessary for people to eat.  It is one of the few legitimate activities we engage in, as human beings.  If left to my own devices, I would graze throughout the day (almonds, cheese, apples, etc...), and quite possibly, never so much as warm something up.  Needless to say, I  LOVE eating out because it takes me out of the whole eating process!!  One of God's greatest gifts, really.  I digress...

Back to finding fulfillment in the very-necessary, food preparation responsibilities that come with being a wife and mother:

I think the highest calling in this life (and therefore, the most fulfilling) is to love our neighbor for love of God.  The people God has entrusted to me are my most important neighbors.  When I cook and clean for them, or whatever else I do to meet/ exceed their needs, I am engaged in the most important activity on the face of the earth.  Further proof that these actions are approved by God, is that they demand humility!  Most often, the only reward I receive for my efforts (besides generous praise and gratitude from my husband) are words of disapproval regarding the menu, or complaints about how long it took to put it on the table. 

There are so many things we can do in this life.  Many look fulfilling, but are not.  And just as many look unfulfilling, but are.

So, yes, my life is fulfilling.  But, that does not mean it is always comfortable or without its doubts.

Just today, I had to have an "affirmation" lunch with my husband because I'm back to feeling like I can't please anyone for very long, which always makes me think I must be doing something wrong.  However, he assured me that the fruits of my labor are to come.  In the future.  The very distant future.  At the end of our meal, he handed me a fortune cookie, and jokingly said, "Maybe your answer is in here."  It read, "Ships are safe in the harbor, but that's not what they are built for." 

My I-can-relate-anything-to-anything interpretation of that was "We can't use comfort as a sign that we are doing what we were made to do".  A ship isn't battered by waves until it is doing its job.  Just because I lack the comfort of being surrounded by people who are happy and grateful all the time, doesn't mean I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  I am.   Therefore, I am fulfilled.  Fulfillment is only possible when you know you are "the-best-version-of-yourself" and doing what you were made to do.

Yes, my life is fulfilling.  And, I am tremendously grateful to my niece for asking the question to begin with.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for Dallas and her question.  Thank you for having such confidence in me that you continue to place people in my life to love and serve.  Please forgive me when I stop communicating the joy that always comes with doing Your will.  Thank you for my husband, his words of encouragement, and his belief in me.  Thank for a kitchen to work in, and a home to welcome and love those You send.  Please remain with me and all of those who struggle with their vocation, especially when it appears to be of little value to the world!  Thank you for pithy little statements in the middle of a cookie.  Thank you for all.  I love You.  Amen.

Spring Break Revelation

It is humbling to be a parent. 

Generally speaking, everyone in our family gets along well-enough most of the time, that there is no real reason to take a hard look at the family dynamic.  Until we were halfway between Natural Bridge Caverns and Enchanted Rock. 

Something was plaguing my middle son.  I don't know if his black cloud was brought on by the flu he had at the beginning of the week or what.  All I know is that whatever it was, was very ill-timed. 

The day before, we spent the morning walking through the first real cave my boys have been in, and it was magnificent besides.  We spent the afternoon playing in the spring water at a New Braunfels park, had a great dinner, and spent the night at a hotel, which was a major highlight in its own right.  The negativity ebbed and flowed from my middle son, and was checked by us at its peaks.

The negativity started ramping up again the following morning, and came to a head in route to Enchanted Rock, (where after we camped last Spring Break, vowed to spend every Spring Break thereafter).  He was talking about what a boring life he had and I'm pretty sure there was something about wishing he lived with a different family.

My husband pulled the car over and they had a conversation which didn't require any words.  We decided that if he wasn't able to pull his bad attitude out of the gutter between where we were and where we were going, he could stay in the car with me, and the rest of the family would spend the day hiking as planned.  His choice. 

He got it turned around.  But, just as he did, my oldest took cover under that same black cloud.  I would have loved to have seen (and squished) that little black crab, hiding in that black cloud, jumping from one to the other.  Damn thing.  On our ascent of Enchanted Rock (the same rock they climbed and conquered and have been talking about for a year), my oldest decided we were his enemies, and he wasn't going to climb all the way up because his legs were too tired.  Oh, boy. 

I'm thinking, "This is fun!  Now, I'm pretty sure I have some of the most spoiled kids in this park, which makes me one of the worst parents in this park, etc..."

We finished climbing, and once we got to the top, all was well.  It ended up being a great day and the black crab must have hopped families.  Interestingly, I saw a father gripping his son by his arm on top of that same rock, giving him the "attitude" talk.  I'm just saying... 

But, I was not unscathed.  On the way home, all the kiddos were sacked out from a full day of climbing and sun.  I asked my husband, "Do I need to be doing something differently?"  If my kids can be so ungrateful and negative in such great moments, I feel like I must be doing something wrong.  He said something like "Kids only have kid's perspectives.  They can't really appreciate anything because they've never known anything else."  They have everything they need and a lot of what they want.  Don't get me wrong.  Our kids only get gifts for Christmas and birthdays.  Otherwise, they buy what they want with their own money, saved from special occasions or earned from chores.   But, they are "spoiled" because of the lack of balance in their life.

Basically, they have more than they need coming in (free time, attention, pleasures, stuff), and less of what we need going out (gratitude, respect, work, positive attitude).  So, I changed our current protocol to produce different and satisfactory results - Decrease what is coming in, and increase what is going out. 

Feeling very pleased with this assessment, I sat down and made a list of daily jobs for each boy, in conjunction with a handy "three-strikes-and-you're-out" check mark system for all the behaviors and attitudes we don't want to see.  I covered it with the boys over dinner and relished briefly in the feeling of regaining a sense of balance, control, and peace.  But, then I realized... I've done all this before.  There is nothing new here.  Just a re-commitment to doing what I've already committed to do - Raise children who Love.  Appreciate.  Respect.  Serve.   

It is humbling to be a parent.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for the beauty of Your Creation and time to enjoy it.  Thank you for Spring Break as a time to recover from the flu and see something new.  Thank you for the humility demanded in parenthood.  Thank you for new inspirations and moments of clarity.  Please grant us wisdom, as we raise our children in this wealthy country, where we want for nothing.  Lord, help me to be the mother you intended me to be, before you granted me the gift of motherhood.  Help me to talk less and act more. Thank you for the gift of a partner in the difficult journey of raising children.  Please sustain those who have to do it on their own.  Thank you for so many chances to get it right and help us extend Your Mercy to those who live under our own roof.  Please bless our children with hearts like Yours.  Help them to be meek and humble of heart, so that they may enjoy Your Presence for eternity.  Amen. 

It's Hard to be Holy When You're Sleep-Deprived

A blast from the past for a friend who has been sleep-deprived for far longer than anyone I know, and for all who have been there (or are there)...

September 9, 2009

11:10am – Wednesday 

The car is all packed up to go to Lake Bryan.  It’s raining outside and I’m waiting for the baby to wake up.  I’m tired and don’t feel like going, but I think it will help me “chill out” some, and Brett is out there w/ his guys today running the boats.  I feel like I’m being pecked to death by my baby chickens (Brayton and Walker)…fix this knot, my train track is broken, where are my logs?, Brayton pushed me, Walker called me stupid, find me in my fort – no not through that hole, this hole…The baby is still getting up twice a night and it doesn’t seem to have any relationship to hunger, as he sometimes wakes up earlier after he eats a big meal before bed.  I can’t figure it out and it is really starting to affect my patience level during the day. 

I have been reading about being resigned to God’s will for my life.  Is God’s will for my life for me to be sleep deprived?  I vacillate between wanting to wean the baby entirely (not that I could do it quickly – I’ve been trying to get him to take a bottle for months) and giving him God’s best by breastfeeding him – as much and as often as he wants. 

I am beginning to wonder if it would be easier to suffer pain/sickness, as the suffering is coming from within rather than without.  I am always at the mercy of other people.  I am trying to give thanks in all circumstances, as written in Thessalonians.  However, as my sleep deprivation grows and my patience shortens, it becomes more difficult with each interruption/demand.  I thank God for my three healthy, beautiful children.  I thank God my legs work, so I can tend to them.  I thank God I don’t have to work and entrust my kids to someone else’s care (even if it would be better than what I can offer some days).  I thank God I am able to breastfeed (as this was my fervent prayer when pregnant with Wyatt).  I thank God Brett has a good job.  I thank God we can pay our bills without receiving utility disconnect notices or foreclosure notices.  I thank God I have parents who love me.  I thank God He loves me.  I thank God for Jesus – I am believing more and more all the time my own weakness and incapability to do much on my own.  I thank God for the consolations of Wyatt’s smiles, and him reaching out to touch my face, and the boys’ laughter.  I thank God for “Mom, you’re my best.”  I am reading Teresa of Avila’s biography.  I can relate to her about so many things.  It took 40 years for her to develop/recognize her holiness.  I hope it doesn’t take that long for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 13, 2009

Sunday – 1:29pm 

I just wanted to write before I forget how great it feels to be well-rested.  We started to wean Wyatt from his night feedings a few days ago.  The first night he cried for 32 minutes.  The next night about 35.  The following night for about 10 minutes (according to Brett – I was so desperate for sleep and couldn’t bear listening to him cry again for so long, so I slept on the couch with ear plugs in and the fan going).  It was probably the best night’s sleep I’ve had since Wyatt was born.  Last night he only woke up once around 3am and cried for a minute or so, and didn’t wake up until almost 7:30am.  Thanks be to God!  The sleep deprivation was really starting to get to me.  I’ve been extremely crabby and impatient.  You know something needs to change when Brayton says, “Mommy, why are you so crabby all the time?” and Walker says one morning, “Mommy, did you not wake up crabby this morning?” (That was the first morning after I got decent sleep).  I pray I don’t forget what a blessing it is to sleep without interruption.  I want to be at my best for my kids and my husband. 

Note:  Please see my next post for a more objective view of how sleep-deprivation and all other emotionally and physically painful things might fit into a much bigger picture, and the best way to endure. 

Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for sleep and for sleep-deprivation, if it drives us closer to You.  Thank you for children who grow up and no longer need us in the middle of the night.  Thank you for notes kept that bring it all right back, when it is helpful for another.  Thank you for You.  Please draw near to all those who are suffering from insomnia, those who tend to others in the middle of the night, and all others who are simply tired from the pressures of daily living.  If it is not outside Your Will, please restore restful sleep to those who are most in need.  Amen. 

 

Chopped Liver and Boy-Packed Lunches

I read something today that explains a lot. 

In New Guinea, "Children were considered babies until they lost their front teeth.  When this happened, the little boys of the tribe left their mothers and went to live with the men in the village.  Fathers then took over the nurturing of their sons and the mothers raised the girls." - A Mother's Touch by Elise Arndt

Ohhhhhhh.  My middle son just lost both of his front teeth and not so coincidentally, I am chopped liver at my house.  No, I am not exaggerating.  Every night the two older boys fight over who gets to sit by Daddy at the dinner table.  The one who loses (who has to sit by me) is usually close to tears.

Just this afternoon, the youngest was down for a nap, the middle one was gone with Daddy, and my oldest was watching a movie.  Before, I sat down with a book and a cup of coffee, I asked him, "Are you happy watching the movie, or would you like to do something with me?"  He asked, "Why?"  I said "because if you don't want to do something together, I'm going to sit down and read."  He said, "You can do whatever you want to do."  So, I happily plopped down with my book, after being dismissed by my second-grader.

Just thought I'd share in case you are also experiencing being "phased out".  It's normal.

On a different note, I visited a friend last week and was able to see her "Kids Contribution" poster hanging up in her kitchen.  A gold mine in plain view for my plundering!  However, after laying my eyes on the "Pack your lunch" item, I had everything I needed.  Thank you, Julia!  Thank you, Amy for suggesting it to her!  Thank you, Elizabeth for pairing them up in your Titus mentor Mom program!  (Have you read Spiritual Mothering by Susan Hunt?  I never finished it, but would love to donate it to your cause, if you should want it.)

So, this last week, my boys started packing their own lunch.  This is coming at the perfect time, because just the week before, my husband was (unusually) home during our get-ready-for-school routine.  He was very unimpressed with my boys lack of respect and appreciation when fielding my questions about what to put in their lunch box.  Problem solved.

Another unforeseen benefit, is that one of my kiddos is a slow mover in the mornings.  In order for him to have time to pack his lunch, he has to keep moving.  If he doesn't, there is a natural consequence waiting for him - he has to eat school lunch.  Hee hee.  I just love natural consequences.

Oh, I almost forgot --in fact, I did forget, and came back to add this in-- Not having to make my sons' lunches returns time to my schedule, which allows me to sit with them at the breakfast table and read The Lives of the Saints.  Major bonus.

Another thing Julia mentioned (and which also came up this weekend in conversation with another), was encouraging our children to ask the question, "Is there anything I can do to help?"  We need to encourage the spirit of service.  This is my next quest.  Thank you, friends.

Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for last night's Confession with a new priest and the gift of Yourself in the Eucharist this morning!  Thank you for lessons from New Guinea.  Thank you for the gift of friendship and writing on the wall.  Thank you for loaning my boys to me.  Please "help me to do all I can to prepare them for the day when You will call them home. Thank you for the humility gained in motherhood.  I love You and can palpably feel Your love for me.  Thank you.  Amen.

Zero Desire to Please My Children

I woke up with the same feeling I went to bed with last night - I'm frustrated with my kids.  We were given free tickets for the hayride at Santa's Wonderland (A Christmas light display with "over a million lights").  I've been wanting to go for years and haven't because my husband is vehemently opposed.  So, last night, we went with Grandma and a friend of hers.

The lights were awesome and worth the money we would have paid for the tickets.  No doubt about it.  But, a few things along the way crept in and insidiously stole my joy.

Walking the football field-length gravel parking lot, in the dark, carrying a 3-year-old, and trying to get the older two to STOP throwing rocks and playing tag between all of the pedestrians and parked cars, was #1.  It might not have been so bad, if I didn't have to grab my boys by their coats before they heeded my voice.

The gravel-lined path for the hayride waiting line also proved too much temptation for little boys.  They HAD to pick up the rocks and fill the one hood between them, in between trying to kick them a reasonable distance.  No problem, except the aforementioned line is full of people in close proximity.  Fun.  #2.

After a reasonable wait, we happily climbed aboard the hayride on the second trailer, the farthest away from the diesel fumes.  The moment we've all been waiting for...  We were getting ready to go under the first tunnel of lights, but I had to cajole my 3-year-old to look at it, as he was looking at the ground move underneath the back tire.  He was cold, but refused the jackets I brought, and was that "I'm ready to go home" kid about 1/3 of the way through.  #3.

We completed the light tour with many oohs and awes, some musical chairs on the hayride, lots of "I'm ready to go home, now's", and overwhelming appreciation that the entire light display ended with Jesus rising from the tomb (a resurrection/ascension combo, if you will).  Jesus Christ got the most important "spot" and for this I was uplifted.  At least, The reason for the whole production had been remembered, and honored.  I was happy for Jesus.

To make the night complete, we agreed by consensus, that we would drink some hot chocolate by the blazing bonfire, and listen to some live music.  I volunteered to stand in the hot chocolate line and everyone else settled in by the fire.  15 minutes later, I rejoined the group, looking forward to melting away the remnants of the early accumulation of trivial irritations. 

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Oldest is pouting because he needs a straw (#4), youngest is sad because it's too hot to drink (#5), and I can't really relax because I'm holding two cups of hot chocolate (#6).  As comforting as holding one warm drink is, holding two screams, "You cannot relax because things are not as they should be!"  I was officially in my 3-year-old's camp, "I'm ready to go home, now!"  On the way out, my middle son begged for kettle corn because he was so hungry (#7).  Sorry, I just spent $13.50 on hot chocolate.

~After writing the first paragraph, I recognized the problem.  I have been wanting to go to Santa's Wonderland for years.  My expectations were simply to high, from the get-go.  I wish I could have recognized and released myself from those ugly, little things!  That doesn't mean that my kids shouldn't have been better behaved and more appreciative - these are things parents should expect from their children!  But, the fact that they fell short highlights the areas where I've fallen short.  Maybe that's another reason I wasn't able to let go of all the little stuff, like I supposed I should.

I don't ever remember being ungrateful as a child.  Wait.  Would I remember that?  . 

Anyway, I'm sitting here this morning, with zero desire to please my children.  My efforts yesterday proved that they can't be satisfied.  So today, for now, they're on their own.  Maybe I'll feel differently after I offer my prayer...

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for the awesome light display at Santa's Wonderland and for the finale, Your Son, Who lives and reigns, forever and ever.  Lord, I am frustrated with my children's lack of obedience and gratitude.  Every morning, I offer you my life, including my boys and my parenting.  I have already done that today, but I am doing it again, now.  Lord, please guide me.  Help me to practice Your mercy and love.  Please give me the wisdom to know when and how to discipline them, so they may be pleasing to You (and to us).  Please forgive my impatience, ingratitude, and failures in charity.  I love you.  Amen.       

Day After Christmas Ponderings

Just chillin' the day after Christmas, listening to a Mariachi Pandora station blare from my nephew's phone, and a fire crackling in the fireplace.  After watching the boys open their presents yesterday morning, I spent the bulk of the day in the kitchen.  Biscuits and gravy for breakfast, caramel corn for snack, turkey, sweet potatoes, and apple pie for dinner (My in-laws brought the rest).  As I was enjoying the solitude of the kitchen while remote control helicopters and Nerf sword fights swirled about, I wondered (for the millionth time) if I should be more "engaged" in the robust activity of my boys.  More and more, their activities stray from my interests and abilities. 

After pondering this throughout the day, I came to the conclusion that my biggest role now, and in the foreseeable future, is to be a positive force in the kitchen.  To be available to listen, welcome, love, and "light up" when my boys enter the room.  Unfortunately, food and its preparation are of the utmost importance to my family, and yet, one of the things I am worst at. 

I hate this irony, but have yet to figure out how to get around it.  I have a friend who is a personal chef and have proposed washing her dishes, just to be in her kitchen and glean some little nugget here and there.  We'll see what comes of that...  Meanwhile, I'll keep trying, and baking, as I can't seem to go wrong when sugar is one of the ingredients.

On a separate note, this Christmas has been one of the best for me.  After my brief self-centeredness episode (as detailed in the Stuff of Life post), this is my first year to feel totally detached from material things come Christmas Day.  There was nothing I wanted, nor expected.  The adults in the family previously agreed that we would buy for kids only this year.   I wasn't expecting to be, but I'm a big fan.  The end result was less pressure, less stuff, more money, and a palpable peace.

To be honest, I don't think I could have imagined being so happy receiving nothing before this year.  One of my continual goals is to detach from all things, and this year, God granted me the best gift of all - the joy and peace of detachment.  I am not going to guess at how long it will stay or presume that I am officially "detached", and can move on to other spiritual pursuits, but I am extremely thankful to have experienced it for at least a couple of days. 

If I needed another reminder that things don't bring lasting happiness, all I had to do was watch one of my sons unwrap all of his presents (a real gun and a telescope in the mix) and stand in the middle of the living room, looking a little sad.  When I asked him what was wrong, he said "I just didn't get to unwrap very many presents this year."  Ugh.  Maybe he would like to try the "Get nothing for Christmas" experiment next year. :)

New Year's Day is around the corner, which always leads me into a review of my life and looking for areas to renew or replace.  I'm sure I'll be writing again soon...

Merry Christmas to You!

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for Baby Jesus!!  Thank you for sending us a Baby to adore and love.  Thank you for salvation, Jesus in the Eucharist, time with family, fires in fireplaces, warm houses on cold nights, and grandmas two doors down.  Thank you for grace and peace.  Please teach me how to give my children good things without encouraging them to expect lasting happiness from them. Help me teach them that true happiness and peace come from You and You only. Please help us find You in each moment.  Help us recognize "the point of intersection of the timeless with Time."  Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy.  Amen.

Children Learn What They Live

The other day, I was at the Church bookstore looking for a little something for my goddaughter and came across this beautiful laminated little card entitled, "Children Learn What They Live".  Interestingly, no author was listed to claim the credit for such an excellent summation.  However, as soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew I needed to carry it with me, to remind me of the importance of my role in creating the environment where they "learn what they live".  I wanted to include it in my last post, but it was getting kind of lengthy, so here it is...

 

Children Learn

What They Live

 

If a child lives with criticism,

He learns to condemn.

If a child lives with hostility,

He learns to fight.

If a child lives with ridicule,

He learns to be shy.

If a child lives with shame,

He learns to feel guilty.

If a child lives with tolerance,

He learns to be patient.

If a child lives with encouragement,

He learns confidence.

If a child lives with praise,

He learns to appreciate.

If a child lives with fairness,

He learns justice.

If a child lives with security,

He learns to have faith.

If a child lives with approval,

He learns to like himself.

If a child lives with acceptance &

friendship.  He learns to find

love in the world.



Fake It 'Til You Make It

What a super night!  A great combination of hilarity and pride (not the kind that says you're better than everybody else, but the kind you feel for your kids when they exceed your expectations).

My husband and I decided to let the 6 and 7-year-old boys try out for the local swim club.  They love to swim.  Their Daddy loves to swim.  I love to swim.  Their 3-year-old brother loves to swim.  And our 17-year-old-neighbor-idol-superhero-rockstar loves to swim.  If being surrounded by awesome swimmers makes them awesome swimmers, they are in!

We showed up with 25 other first-timers, grabbed the necessary form on the way in and took our seat at the end of the bleachers to await instruction.  I returned the form and reclaimed my seat.  "Where are the boys?" I ask my husband.  He says, "I thought they were with you."  We quickly scan the bleachers and then the pool, where the current team members are practicing on the far end.

I say, "That looks like B-Man!" (in a lane with a bunch of other swimmers with kickboards).  He says, "There's Walker right behind him!"  Sure enough.  They came to swim, so they just grabbed a kickboard and jumped in!  I guess they figured the only reason to ever wait to get in the water at the swimming pool was for sunscreen, and since we were indoors, there was no reason to wait!  The coach didn't even seem to notice a couple of extra swimmers, except when they were going the wrong way.  Hopefully, this isn't a "You had to be there" kind of story, because it was hilarious.

I think "Fake It Til You Make It" really is a more legitimate approach than it sounds.  Tonight was a great illustration of "If it looks like an Aggie Club swimmer, acts like an Aggie Club swimmer, and smells like an Aggie Club Swimmer, it must be an Aggie Club Swimmer!" The coach who evaluated them when their turn finally came loved their enthusiasm and he didn't even know about their unauthorized warm-up.  We loved their enthusiasm, too, and hope it continues, especially when they realize there is way more to learn than what they already know!

Dear God, Thank you for tonight.  Amen.

First Day of School

Today was as good as it gets for the first day of school.  The boys were all smiles this morning, we were on time, and they only had good things to say when they came home.  Wyatt and I had nowhere we had to be, so we played in the dirt, went to the mall to replace a watch battery, and watched a little bit of a movie.  Quality time, for sure. 

My plan was to have cookies made when they got home and to set the stage for our new after-school routine.  But, I didn't get an early enough start and still had to bake them when they got home.  By the time I had the first batch out of the oven, my oldest was already at the neighbor's house and I had "lost" my audience. 

I decided I want to reserve the first 5 minutes after they get home.  5 for 5.  5 minutes for 5 details from the day.  If you have girls, this may seem ridiculous - they probably don't stop talking about who was wearing what and how they felt about what so and so said...But, my experience (and the experience of all of the boy moms I've talked to) is that we have to mine for details!!  They do not come easily!  So, my plan is to have a snack on the table when they walk in the door and for everybody to "come clean" during snack time.  I'm 0 for 1, so I can only go up from here.

Miranda Walichowski suggests having a set learning time after school, as well.  That way, they develop the habit whether they have homework or not.  So, instead of squeezing homework in at 7:00 after dinner, we're going to get it knocked out from 4-4:30 (hopefully 1st and 2nd grade homework doesn't take longer than 30 minutes).  Again, I'm 0 for 1, so I can only improve tomorrow!

I also told the neighbor boy he could come every day after school (like he did last year), but he would have to go home at 4, instead of at supper time.

We'll see how my great vision turns out.  I feel like just thinking about these things puts me in a better position than where we were last year at this time.  I'm going for proactive this year.  Reactivity is for the birds.

Here's a little blast from the past.  It's fun (and funny) to look back even just 2 years and read how many things have changed.

August 23, 2010 - 1:59pm 

Today was Brayton’s first day of kindergarten.  I can’t believe it is finally here.  Things I know…Walker still hears Bman yelling even when he’s not here.  He is ready for BMan to come home after 30 minutes.  He can also do “bear duty” (scouring the house at naptime for Wyatt’s bear – normally Bman’s job).  He likes to sleep in Bman’s bed when he’s gone.  He needs ME to play LEGOS with him (and I thought less kids meant less work J.  We also checked his class schedule a couple of times to see what Brayton was doing at any given time.  Brayton was excited to go!  However, we apparently need more crosswalk training.  The crossing guard gave us the go-ahead and Bman started riding his bike 90 degrees away from her, crossing the busy street she wasn’t guarding!  Traumatic, indeed.  I think we’ll be walking from now on.  The bikes can stay at home.   

Anyway, the only tears this morning were mine and thankfully, Brayton didn’t see them.  I held them back until he was on his way into his classroom.  I am so proud of him and I can’t wait to hear about his day.  Our schedule is going to be so much different at home.  Dressed, teeth brushed, breakfast eaten, Bman at school, and all of us home again a little after 8!  Wow.  I think I am going to get a lot more done in a day’s time. 

I have felt for so long that my kids were always going to be little and at home with me (even though I know the world is full of grown-ups and I’m one myself), but now I feel the clock picking up speed.  Next year, it is just going to be Wyatt and I after the first day of school.  Unbelievable!  So, here we go, this is the beginning of Phase 2 – having school-aged children.  Yay!

Dear God, Thank you for people who have the gift of teaching and for all of the people who change our children for the better.  Thank you for times of quiet and days that you don't have to leave the house if you don't want to.  Thank you for legs that can walk and ride bikes and for crossing guards to protect them when doing so.  Thank you for being such a gentle teacher.  Amen.

Summer Report Card

I'm getting ready to go to bed and wanted to wrap up the last day of summer with a few thoughts. A quick review of things gone by and anticipation of things to come. Those bittersweet emotions seem to be stirring and they are always well-timed as seasons change and life changes, for good. One door closes and another one opens.

If I had to grade our summer as the door shuts, I'd probably give it a B. Not the most exciting, but plenty of down time with lots of good stuff thrown in. The highlights were swimming, swimming, and more swimming, roller skating (boys' new favorite thing to do), going to the lake in our "junky old boat", a trip to Kansas and a daytrip to the beach. Otherwise, there was lots of Lego-building, reading (unfortunately, they still aren't self-motivated here, but they will do just about anything for video game time -and 30 minutes for 30 minutes works great at our house), Frisbee, Monopoly, and Sequence dotted about, and watching the A-team and eating popcorn after dinner. If you've never heard a 3-year-old white boy talk like Mr. T, we need to get together! 

My least favorite thing was trying to keep the big boys quiet while the youngest one napped. I think this has been my least favorite thing since I've had more than one child - roughly 6 years. Consequently, the thing I am most looking forward to is having the QUIET during that time, starting tomorrow.

If I could have done anything differently, I would have been more patient and less selfish (especially during those quiet times). Generally, the same things I would change at the end of every day. Does it ever get easier? Come more naturally? I'm starting to realize they stop asking so much of me before I meet my potential for selfless giving, so the best way for me to practice is to offer myself without being asked.

I wish I would have been more charitable with the neighbor boy, who would often arrive at 9am and not leave until we "kicked him out" at supper time. He had parents at home, but no siblings, and he preferred (and prefers) to be here. However, I also wish I would have been more restrictive about the amount of time he spent here. For 99% of the summer, this seemed like a contradiction to me - To be charitable and to be limiting. However, too much time lead to increased fights, boys who didn't listen as well, a messier house, and a tired husband.  I would have loved him (and my family) better if I would have limited his time here; I wouldn't have been as frustrated by his continual presence and I would have felt more in control of the environment in my home.

I hate it that I don't have a boundless supply of love to give.  I hate it that, at times, my heart feels stony and cold and little sacrifices seem huge.  But, I am not surprised.  I know I am more loving now than I was a year ago, and way more than 10 years ago.  So, I'm encouraged by the progress, but it's much harder to see moving forward.  The nearer I draw to Christ, the more love I will have to give.  Simple, but not easy.

So, here's to you and your summer report cards.  It's okay if you didn't get an A+, but I'll bet you didn't fail, either!

Dear God of All Time and Seasons, Thank you for the summer that ends today.  Thank you for the memories that we'll carry for the rest of our lives.  Thank you for the confidence gained as the boys learned they could touch the bottom in the deep end.  Thank you for letting us "go deep" and bringing us to the surface again.  Even the bubbles are trying to get to You!  Please give me the grace to be the mother that my boys need.  Please increase their desire to know and love You and to bring Your love to others.  Please keep us safe and free from harm.  You are so faithful and Your watchfulness so enduring.  Thank you.  I love you.  Amen. 

Crying Twice in the Same Day

It's been a weird day.  This morning after breakfast, we all loaded up to buy a new bed for my oldest son.  The youngest has had his own room since he was born and the two big boys have bunked since then.  We decided that the crib really needed to go and a real bed needed to replace it.  A 3-year-old shouldn't have his own room and a new big bed, so the oldest won out and everybody else shuffled a spot.  Middle to top and Little to bottom.  Everybody is happy.  Especially the oldest and youngest!  But, the middle will probably be happiest of all when his daddy puts up a new shelf, just for him. 

Anyway, after lunch Walker and I went to run a few errands.  On the way out, we stopped by a garage sale on the next street over to see what treasures we could find.  Sure enough, a belt for $.50, a couple of old prayer books, and a bunch of stainless steel butter knives, which is perfect because when we have company for dinner, I have to put the two we have in the middle of the table and we all share!  They apparently work great for digging in the yard and cutting stuff when you are too young to score a sharp knife.

All is well until I get back in the van to drive away.  My left knee is "frozen" in the position it landed in when I got in the car.  When I tried to move it up or down or sideways - excruciating pain.  Am I 100 years old?!  What the heck?  I can't really make sense of it, and my right leg is fine, so I drive the block back home and yell at my husband to see if he can help me out of the car.  Only when he tries, I really won't let him because everything he did (including make me laugh) hurt me, a lot.  So, I sat there sweating in the driver's seat for an hour or so and hesitantly decided I needed to go to the ER.  I cried like a baby when he and our neighbor put me in the backseat.

In the ER, the X-ray tech saved the day.  She had to SLOWLY straighten my leg out to get the x-rays.  On the fourth one, whatever it was that was in the wrong spot, moved back home!  Thank you, Jesus!  I went home with crutches, a referral to an orthopedic doctor, and a signed paper that said I will likely pay them a huge, but unknown amount of money, and they will hunt me down if I don't.  Now, I wish I would have let my husband just carry me in the house at the get-go, but it's a little late for that.

I quickly abandoned the crutches when I got home, as I'm pretty sure I was jamming my knee into the ground trying to get the timing right.  I'm glad I don't know how much I will pay for them, yet.  At least they can entertain three little boys.  So, I "eased" around, shuffling stuff from room to room and making dinner.

Normalcy seemed to return during the bath routine, as there was lots of water on the floor and standard territorial battles during brushing of teeth.  However, normalcy fell through the floor when I went to read my little guy his bedtime stories.  The rocking chair is in his old room (now his big brother's room) and he's settled into his Thomas sheets on the bottom bunk.  So, for lack of choices, I sit on the floor beside his bed and start to read Book number one.  The tears just start coming (like now).  I'm able to read through them, and he's none the wiser.  I'm not ready for the end of our rocking chair days.  Those times are my favorite of all times.  In a hopeful (and maybe a little desperate) moment, I asked him if he'd like to sit on my lap and finish the story.  He surprised me with a "Sure, I'll sit on your lap."  And when he sat down, he said "This is like a chair!"  Yes, like a chair.  I guess I don't have to quit the rocking chair cold turkey, but times are a'changin'.

I'd prefer not to cry twice in one day, but I'm thankful that I can.  (My grandma says her tears dried up a long time ago). 

Tears are the humble created water of my heart that corresponds to the powerful uncreated water of the Spirit's life in me.  Tears are perhaps the most rejuvenating and re-creating water of all, the evidence that I have allowed grace to melt the ice at the center of my being. - Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis

Dear Creator and Divine Physician, Thank you for creating me and fixing the things that are out of place.  Thank you for laps that are like chairs and for things that fade away instead of ending abruptly.  Thank you for your love and mercy and desire to be in communion with me, and all whom You have created.  Thank you for tears when our hearts spill over, with joy or grief, elation or despair.  You know us so well.  Help us to know You well, too.  I love You.  Amen.