Ever since hearing a friend talk last year about having a family motto, I have been mulling the idea over in my head. This is exactly the kind of thing I both love and dread. The idea is brilliant and inspiring, but choosing one motto, the perfect motto, is a task simply too daunting. And so, as with other challenges that fall into this category, it sat unattended. There are just so many good ideas out there, so many good options, so many good sayings.
This past Sunday I received a flash of inspiration. We were singing the intermediate hymn at church (one that I had chosen, being the Ward Music Director) and the words spoke so clearly to me. This is exactly how I want to inspire my family. There are lots of things I want to instill in my children, like a love of education, a good work ethic, deep spiritual roots. More than anything I want to teach them to serve. As it says in the book of Corinthians, "if you have not charity, you have nothing." Plus, it only seems fitting that in our musical home we should have a song to inspire us!
The idea bubbled over in the car ride home as I expressed it to James, who was on board right away. Next on my agenda is to find a way to display it in our home. But for now, here are the words to inspire the Gawthroupe family.
***
Have I Done Any Good?
Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped anyone in need?
Hav eI cheered up the sad and made someone feel glad?
If not, I have failed indeed.
Has anyone's burden been lighter today because I was willing to share?
Have the sick and the weary been helped on their way?
When they needed my help was I there?
There are chances for work all around just now,
Opportunities right in our way.
do not let them pass by, saying, "Sometime I'll try,"
But go and do something today.
'Tis noble of man to work and to give;
Love's labor has merit alone.
Only he who does something helps others to live.
To God each good work will be known.
Then wake up and do something more
Than dream of your mansion above.
Doing good is a pleasure,
A joy beyond measure,
A blessing of duty and love.
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Friday, 22 October 2010
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
The haze is lifting
I feel it...I really do...the haze is lifting!
I feel that for the past 5 and a half years I have been living in a perpetual haze of exhaustion. Life has been but a collection of moments strung together that barely make any sense and have little cohesion. Survival has been the name of the game.
But over the last month or so, I have felt as though I was emerging from a dark hole in the ground, gulping a breath of fresh air, blinking in the sunlight.
I'm still not sleeping much at night, and I now have a blanket and pillow on the floor in Benjamin's room for the long nights when he doesn't settle well, but my afternoon naps have become short energy builders or non-existent. I have been able to use those two hours to my advantage (both house and husband are truly grateful!) I am finally getting in some personal study time, reading time, writing time.
My self-imposed house arrest seems to be going well; Benjamin is finally taking morning and afternoon naps as he should have been these past nine months. It took a friend on the outside asking me for sleeping advice for her eight month old, for me to realize what needed to be done for my own baby. And I'm not feeling as isolated as I thought I might. I am using the hour and a half in the morning to get one chore done, a little tidying, and then playing and teaching Caleb. By 10:30 Benjamin usually wakes, and we have an hour before I need to be getting lunch ready in time for afternoon nap, around 12:30. While the weather is holding out I try to get outside for a walk or a play at the park or in the backyard.
There is some order in my life again, and I will be all the happier for it. Although I don't expect life to be the same each and every day, I am happy to enjoy some constancy for a season.
I feel that for the past 5 and a half years I have been living in a perpetual haze of exhaustion. Life has been but a collection of moments strung together that barely make any sense and have little cohesion. Survival has been the name of the game.
But over the last month or so, I have felt as though I was emerging from a dark hole in the ground, gulping a breath of fresh air, blinking in the sunlight.
I'm still not sleeping much at night, and I now have a blanket and pillow on the floor in Benjamin's room for the long nights when he doesn't settle well, but my afternoon naps have become short energy builders or non-existent. I have been able to use those two hours to my advantage (both house and husband are truly grateful!) I am finally getting in some personal study time, reading time, writing time.
My self-imposed house arrest seems to be going well; Benjamin is finally taking morning and afternoon naps as he should have been these past nine months. It took a friend on the outside asking me for sleeping advice for her eight month old, for me to realize what needed to be done for my own baby. And I'm not feeling as isolated as I thought I might. I am using the hour and a half in the morning to get one chore done, a little tidying, and then playing and teaching Caleb. By 10:30 Benjamin usually wakes, and we have an hour before I need to be getting lunch ready in time for afternoon nap, around 12:30. While the weather is holding out I try to get outside for a walk or a play at the park or in the backyard.
There is some order in my life again, and I will be all the happier for it. Although I don't expect life to be the same each and every day, I am happy to enjoy some constancy for a season.
Saturday, 9 October 2010
Press on
"Exceptional kids." I love that description of children who are challenged with physical or mental problems. Because they truly are exceptional. Life is tough as a general principal, and they must navigate the waters with added challenges. Many of them have never known any different.
But today I was touched as I thought about their parents. I know firsthand the unconditional love of a mother. I do not know the daily effort of taking care of an exceptional child. I do not understand the mental and physical exhaustion these parents experience. I do not know the pure joy of a milestone like their child lifting a hand on their own, or gathering the strength to hold their head up. I do not know the frustration of dealing with hospitals, insurance companies, equipment. I do not know the worries of money not stretching far enough to give your child the comforts or ease of living in a world not designed and built for their needs.
I saw a photo shoot with a beautiful family with two daughters, one of whom is exceptional (although personally, I think the whole family can be called exceptional.) The smiles on their faces, particularly the father's, touched me deeply. I cannot judge for I do not know them personally, but even though this father's unconditional love for his daughter would drive him to do just about anything for her, I imagine there are moments, days, weeks, that stretch him to his limits. And yet I saw the joy in his face. He is representative of the millions of families in this world whose earthly trials revolve around physical or mental disabilities, trials that don't last a short season and then are conquered, but trials that will last a lifetime. Most impressing is the fact that their endurance is not a result of talent, genius or education, those qualities that we most associate with success. This quote is evidence of what it truly takes for these courageous families to thrive.
***
But today I was touched as I thought about their parents. I know firsthand the unconditional love of a mother. I do not know the daily effort of taking care of an exceptional child. I do not understand the mental and physical exhaustion these parents experience. I do not know the pure joy of a milestone like their child lifting a hand on their own, or gathering the strength to hold their head up. I do not know the frustration of dealing with hospitals, insurance companies, equipment. I do not know the worries of money not stretching far enough to give your child the comforts or ease of living in a world not designed and built for their needs.
I saw a photo shoot with a beautiful family with two daughters, one of whom is exceptional (although personally, I think the whole family can be called exceptional.) The smiles on their faces, particularly the father's, touched me deeply. I cannot judge for I do not know them personally, but even though this father's unconditional love for his daughter would drive him to do just about anything for her, I imagine there are moments, days, weeks, that stretch him to his limits. And yet I saw the joy in his face. He is representative of the millions of families in this world whose earthly trials revolve around physical or mental disabilities, trials that don't last a short season and then are conquered, but trials that will last a lifetime. Most impressing is the fact that their endurance is not a result of talent, genius or education, those qualities that we most associate with success. This quote is evidence of what it truly takes for these courageous families to thrive.
***
Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence.
Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.
Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.
Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.
Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.
The slogan 'press on' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.
-- Calvin Coolidge
Monday, 4 October 2010
One down, eight to go
With a son like Caleb, I thought it might be fun to record the loss of each of his nine lives, a sort of childhood countdown to the day when my poor mother heart can assume a steady and unaltered beat.
One down, eight to go.
It was the sort of morning that should have been a warning something was in the wind. Everyone slept until 7am (unheard of!) and we were actually a little late running out the door for the bus. No matter, Colin zipped ahead and flagged the bus down and Caleb and I waved from down the block. Back home, Benjamin willingly ate breakfast and then settled into a morning nap. After a rousing game of pirates, Caleb and I worked on a craft for the letter 'D' and talked about words and names of people that begin with D. I woke Benjamin and we ran some errands, scoring 60 cans of vegetables for my food storage at half price, and picked up the ingredients for our "Dirt Dessert" for tonight. We were running ahead of schedule so we even dropped by the library, where three books that started with D were sitting right there on the shelf for me to grab. Back in the car, and zip home, ready for lunch and nap.
I thought.
The container of vegetables I thought was in the fridge was actually eaten yesterday, so I had to quickly throw some in the microwave...
Beep, beep, beep.
"I'll get it!"
Slow motion of Caleb grabbing the microwave door, giving it a good yank, and thereby pulling down the microwave, the two tier cart, three heavy glass decorative dishes and an innumerable amount of piled up junk...
Caleb landed first. The glass shattered all around him into thousands of shards. As the cart was tipping I was flying across the kitchen, and somehow managed not to catch the microwave, but at least ease its landing. All on top of poor Caleb.
With inhumane (or motherly) strength I tossed the microwave aside, grabbed Caleb and lifted straight up into the air. Glass tumbled off of his body. I carried him out of the room and stripped him down, terrified of seeing the blood start to pour down his little body. Shirt, pants, socks, underwear...I turned him left and right, back to front. No red! Could there really be no blood after all that? Caleb started to shake and cry, my voice wobbled as I tried to reassure him. I quickly surveyed the damage and decided that with two hungry children, one terrified of what had happened, I better call in reinforcements, also known as my mother-in-law.
While we waited I looked over Caleb again and this time did find blood smears. His hand had sustained a cut. I raced him upstairs to wash it down. Relief - it was just a small gash, and the bleeding was already stemming. I wrapped his hand in a dishcloth, sat him naked on the couch and grabbed what food I could to distract him.
It only took half an hour to clean up the mess. Shoes are the order for the rest of the day, however, as I'm still finding tiny little crystals of glass, despite my best sweeping and vacuuming efforts.
What I have learned from this:
Caleb - you are down one life. Guard the other eight carefully, because you aren't even three years old yet.
Kenmore microwave - you are a rock. I was sure you would explode when I pushed the little green start button.
The best way to clear clutter that piles up where you hate it most - smash it all on the ground amid three heavy glass bowls and just toss it all into the garbage.
Lovely purple and blue handcrafted bowl - I will miss you terribly. You were a beautiful wedding gift from a dear friend to James, one of my favourite gifts we've ever received. you have already been lovingly glued back together once, but this time there was nothing I could do.
Little glass dish that I love and cook everything in - I don't know where you came from, and I don't know how you survived that fall, but I am not surprised. You are the best dish. I only wish I had others just like you.
Linoleum floor - I know I always complain about how you look, and that ugly sheet roll you were laid down in. There is not a dent on you after this accident, something a wood floor would not be able to boast. Please forgive 3 years of withering looks.
And so endeth the account of the death of the first of Caleb's nine lives. I am sure he will go through many more before he flies from this nest. I hope my own heart can survive that long.
One down, eight to go.
It was the sort of morning that should have been a warning something was in the wind. Everyone slept until 7am (unheard of!) and we were actually a little late running out the door for the bus. No matter, Colin zipped ahead and flagged the bus down and Caleb and I waved from down the block. Back home, Benjamin willingly ate breakfast and then settled into a morning nap. After a rousing game of pirates, Caleb and I worked on a craft for the letter 'D' and talked about words and names of people that begin with D. I woke Benjamin and we ran some errands, scoring 60 cans of vegetables for my food storage at half price, and picked up the ingredients for our "Dirt Dessert" for tonight. We were running ahead of schedule so we even dropped by the library, where three books that started with D were sitting right there on the shelf for me to grab. Back in the car, and zip home, ready for lunch and nap.
I thought.
The container of vegetables I thought was in the fridge was actually eaten yesterday, so I had to quickly throw some in the microwave...
Beep, beep, beep.
"I'll get it!"
Slow motion of Caleb grabbing the microwave door, giving it a good yank, and thereby pulling down the microwave, the two tier cart, three heavy glass decorative dishes and an innumerable amount of piled up junk...
Caleb landed first. The glass shattered all around him into thousands of shards. As the cart was tipping I was flying across the kitchen, and somehow managed not to catch the microwave, but at least ease its landing. All on top of poor Caleb.
With inhumane (or motherly) strength I tossed the microwave aside, grabbed Caleb and lifted straight up into the air. Glass tumbled off of his body. I carried him out of the room and stripped him down, terrified of seeing the blood start to pour down his little body. Shirt, pants, socks, underwear...I turned him left and right, back to front. No red! Could there really be no blood after all that? Caleb started to shake and cry, my voice wobbled as I tried to reassure him. I quickly surveyed the damage and decided that with two hungry children, one terrified of what had happened, I better call in reinforcements, also known as my mother-in-law.
While we waited I looked over Caleb again and this time did find blood smears. His hand had sustained a cut. I raced him upstairs to wash it down. Relief - it was just a small gash, and the bleeding was already stemming. I wrapped his hand in a dishcloth, sat him naked on the couch and grabbed what food I could to distract him.
It only took half an hour to clean up the mess. Shoes are the order for the rest of the day, however, as I'm still finding tiny little crystals of glass, despite my best sweeping and vacuuming efforts.
What I have learned from this:
Caleb - you are down one life. Guard the other eight carefully, because you aren't even three years old yet.
Kenmore microwave - you are a rock. I was sure you would explode when I pushed the little green start button.
The best way to clear clutter that piles up where you hate it most - smash it all on the ground amid three heavy glass bowls and just toss it all into the garbage.
Lovely purple and blue handcrafted bowl - I will miss you terribly. You were a beautiful wedding gift from a dear friend to James, one of my favourite gifts we've ever received. you have already been lovingly glued back together once, but this time there was nothing I could do.
Little glass dish that I love and cook everything in - I don't know where you came from, and I don't know how you survived that fall, but I am not surprised. You are the best dish. I only wish I had others just like you.
Linoleum floor - I know I always complain about how you look, and that ugly sheet roll you were laid down in. There is not a dent on you after this accident, something a wood floor would not be able to boast. Please forgive 3 years of withering looks.
And so endeth the account of the death of the first of Caleb's nine lives. I am sure he will go through many more before he flies from this nest. I hope my own heart can survive that long.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Staying in
I have pushed it long enough. Benjamin needs his morning naps.
He has been having more and more trouble sleeping at night, a direct result (I believe) of inconsistent napping schedules. With Colin and Caleb I was very stringent; nothing interfered with naptime and bedtime. I recall, without fondness, of the first year of Caleb's life in which I had to be at home from 9-11 in the morning, 1-3 in the afternoon, and in by 7:30 at night. The only way I managed a social life was to constantly have people over to my house (an invitation they graciously accepted!) I relied this long on Benjamin's good nature to keep going out to playdates and outings, but it seems to be catching up. Morning naps are non-existent and afternoon naps run barely an hour. The rest of the day he is irritable and red-eyed, exhausted yet unable to fall asleep with the busyness and distractions around him.
And so I will likely have to put a moratorium on morning activities once more. Luckily there are only three more months until his first birthday, when morning naps usually disappear anyway. I may push my luck one morning a week, since I just got the go-ahead for a preschool music class. Hopefully he'll be okay for that.
I try to look at the upside. Caleb and I will be sure to get our preschool program in, and maybe I can get this house into a bit more order. Okay, that might be pushing my luck, but I'm learning to accept that I'm housekeeping is not my strength. And that's not a bad thing. We can't all be carbon copies of each other, perfect in every area. How boring would that be!
He has been having more and more trouble sleeping at night, a direct result (I believe) of inconsistent napping schedules. With Colin and Caleb I was very stringent; nothing interfered with naptime and bedtime. I recall, without fondness, of the first year of Caleb's life in which I had to be at home from 9-11 in the morning, 1-3 in the afternoon, and in by 7:30 at night. The only way I managed a social life was to constantly have people over to my house (an invitation they graciously accepted!) I relied this long on Benjamin's good nature to keep going out to playdates and outings, but it seems to be catching up. Morning naps are non-existent and afternoon naps run barely an hour. The rest of the day he is irritable and red-eyed, exhausted yet unable to fall asleep with the busyness and distractions around him.
And so I will likely have to put a moratorium on morning activities once more. Luckily there are only three more months until his first birthday, when morning naps usually disappear anyway. I may push my luck one morning a week, since I just got the go-ahead for a preschool music class. Hopefully he'll be okay for that.
I try to look at the upside. Caleb and I will be sure to get our preschool program in, and maybe I can get this house into a bit more order. Okay, that might be pushing my luck, but I'm learning to accept that I'm housekeeping is not my strength. And that's not a bad thing. We can't all be carbon copies of each other, perfect in every area. How boring would that be!
Friday, 17 September 2010
What did you do in school today?
"I dunno."
"Stuff."
"Things."
"I can't remember."
"I'm not sure."
What on earth did you do for the six hours you were gone???
That's the question on my mind every day. Colin is finishing up week two at school, and I have very little idea of what exactly goes on there! He was never one to divulge about school, but at least last year I picked him up every day and the teacher always had one or two comments about the goings-on of the day. It was fun to here the anecdotes, cute stories, funny lines, and amazing activities in which Colin participated. This year I feel so distant from it all.
Every day I varied my question, trying in vain to prompt some response. "Tell me one thing you did today?" "What activity centre did you start at?" (Always and only Lego, is his response!) "What game did you play in gym?" And I got nothing.
Then, finally, I landed on the right question! "What did you do when you got off the bus this morning?"
And out tumbled 10 minutes worth of a detailed, minute-by-minute account of Colin's school day! I guess the "choose a random moment" was just too abstract for him. Too much going on, not enough of it different or unique to stand out. Victory!
I've also decided that I'm going to try and pick him up from school once a week (hopefully Fridays). That way I can pop into the classroom and just hear from the teacher how the week went. I'm hoping to somehow volunteer in the classroom once a week also, which will also be nice. Today is the first day I'm planning on this, so I'll see how it goes!
"Stuff."
"Things."
"I can't remember."
"I'm not sure."
What on earth did you do for the six hours you were gone???
That's the question on my mind every day. Colin is finishing up week two at school, and I have very little idea of what exactly goes on there! He was never one to divulge about school, but at least last year I picked him up every day and the teacher always had one or two comments about the goings-on of the day. It was fun to here the anecdotes, cute stories, funny lines, and amazing activities in which Colin participated. This year I feel so distant from it all.
Every day I varied my question, trying in vain to prompt some response. "Tell me one thing you did today?" "What activity centre did you start at?" (Always and only Lego, is his response!) "What game did you play in gym?" And I got nothing.
Then, finally, I landed on the right question! "What did you do when you got off the bus this morning?"
And out tumbled 10 minutes worth of a detailed, minute-by-minute account of Colin's school day! I guess the "choose a random moment" was just too abstract for him. Too much going on, not enough of it different or unique to stand out. Victory!
I've also decided that I'm going to try and pick him up from school once a week (hopefully Fridays). That way I can pop into the classroom and just hear from the teacher how the week went. I'm hoping to somehow volunteer in the classroom once a week also, which will also be nice. Today is the first day I'm planning on this, so I'll see how it goes!
Friday, 10 September 2010
Just Caleb and Mom
The wonderful by-product of Colin in school every day has been some wonderful moments with Caleb. I've managed to get Benjamin to sleep for some morning naps, leaving a good hour and a half for Caleb and I to spend time together.
I have a loose idea of some "homeschooling" time, although it is hardly structured nor scheduled. I have a curriculum that teaches letters, their sounds, and includes small service projects. I hope to get to the library once a week with him, to nurse a love and awe of the amount of books out there. We have hundreds of books in our own home library (mostly due to my mother, a retired teacher!), so we have no need to venture out for variety. But Caleb does not have the same innate love of books that Colin does, and so I hope the adventure out might foster something more within him. I also plan on going for a walk every day with him, after Benjamin wakes up and before lunch. The days so easily slip away from me, caught up in dishes and tidying and cleaning and playing. While I agree that free play is important, I want to use this opportunity of one-on-one time to teach Caleb some important early childhood lessons.
I want to teach him to love books and reading. I want him to see how much can be learned from books. I want him to hear wonderful stories and beautiful language. I want to inspire his imagination with illustrations.
I want to teach him to serve others. I want him to think outside of his own little world. I want him to see me reaching out to others, building our little community.
I want to teach him to wonder at the world. I want him to open his eyes and see the magnificence around us. I want him to ask a thousand questions, and I hope my answers will only inspire a thousand more. I want to him gaze around him and see how things work.
I want to teach him a love of music. I want that love to grow from the inside and permeate his life.
There is so much to teach, and I am grateful for this time I have to spend with him.
I have a loose idea of some "homeschooling" time, although it is hardly structured nor scheduled. I have a curriculum that teaches letters, their sounds, and includes small service projects. I hope to get to the library once a week with him, to nurse a love and awe of the amount of books out there. We have hundreds of books in our own home library (mostly due to my mother, a retired teacher!), so we have no need to venture out for variety. But Caleb does not have the same innate love of books that Colin does, and so I hope the adventure out might foster something more within him. I also plan on going for a walk every day with him, after Benjamin wakes up and before lunch. The days so easily slip away from me, caught up in dishes and tidying and cleaning and playing. While I agree that free play is important, I want to use this opportunity of one-on-one time to teach Caleb some important early childhood lessons.
I want to teach him to love books and reading. I want him to see how much can be learned from books. I want him to hear wonderful stories and beautiful language. I want to inspire his imagination with illustrations.
I want to teach him to serve others. I want him to think outside of his own little world. I want him to see me reaching out to others, building our little community.
I want to teach him to wonder at the world. I want him to open his eyes and see the magnificence around us. I want him to ask a thousand questions, and I hope my answers will only inspire a thousand more. I want to him gaze around him and see how things work.
I want to teach him a love of music. I want that love to grow from the inside and permeate his life.
There is so much to teach, and I am grateful for this time I have to spend with him.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Spur of the moment camping
By Sunday afternoon I had received two invites to a nearby provincial park to play this week, one for Monday and one for Wednesday. By Sunday evening I had packed the car for a three-day, just kids and me camping trip.
Yes, I know I'm crazy. The decision meant setting up our eight man tent by myself with a baby, a toddler and a preschooler underfoot. It meant a trip to the grocery at the crack of dawn Monday morning. It meant hauling three kids to the comfort station when I had to use the bathroom. It meant driving through the campground to pick the perfect camping spot: one with a swingset and a slide literally on our site and right behind the bathroom.
It also meant playing pirates on their ship on an old-school wooden playground. It meant building a massive sand castle city. It meant cooking hot dogs over the fire and reading "Stewart Little" on the beach. It meant the four of us passing out in the tent on hot afternoons. It meant cuddling up around a fire as darkness fell and singing camp songs I learned as a kid.
There is nothing I loved more, before I had kids, then impromptu vacations. Now I have discovered I can still do it with kids.
Yes, I know I'm crazy. The decision meant setting up our eight man tent by myself with a baby, a toddler and a preschooler underfoot. It meant a trip to the grocery at the crack of dawn Monday morning. It meant hauling three kids to the comfort station when I had to use the bathroom. It meant driving through the campground to pick the perfect camping spot: one with a swingset and a slide literally on our site and right behind the bathroom.
It also meant playing pirates on their ship on an old-school wooden playground. It meant building a massive sand castle city. It meant cooking hot dogs over the fire and reading "Stewart Little" on the beach. It meant the four of us passing out in the tent on hot afternoons. It meant cuddling up around a fire as darkness fell and singing camp songs I learned as a kid.
There is nothing I loved more, before I had kids, then impromptu vacations. Now I have discovered I can still do it with kids.
Thursday, 5 August 2010
What a week!
This is James' and my busy week of the year. Sunday was our anniversary (7 years!), today is James' birthday and this Sunday is my birthday. I kind of like that all of our celebrating happens in one week. It makes it easier to celebrate once in a big way, rather than smaller celebrations throughout the year. When the kids are older we plan to vacation for our megaweek. Right now things are less high maintenance. In fact, on Sunday I was sick so James took the kids out of the house so I could sleep, today James is off to work and I have to leave for a dress rehearsal before he gets home, and this Sunday, well, Sundays are always busy days for us. And since tomorrow night is opening night for the musical I'm working on, and we have shows this weekend and next, even these couple of weeks and weekends are write-offs.
But I was able to dart out to the store yesterday with the boys so they could pick out a gift for Dad. I am of the ilk that if they can think of something they want to buy him, then we'll get that. I don't choose something for them to give. I really do believe it's the thought that counts rather than the gift. I try to give a little guidance to them. Here's the conversation I had with Colin:
Mommy: What do you think Dad would like for his birthday?
Colin: Hmmm. I don't know.
Mommy: Well, it helps to think about what he likes to do.
Colin: He likes to go and work in the basement. (James' business office is in our basement). I know! I should buy him a rug for the floor, since there is no carpet there anymore and it is cold on your feet in the basement.
(We had to rip up the carpet after the hot water heater tank leaked).
So off to the store we went to pick out a small rug. Colin wanted to buy a carpet that went wall-to-wall, but that was a little out of our budget. So he chose a soft blue bathmat. Actually, it's perfect. The rubber bottom will resist the dampness of an old basement, and the top part is softer than any other rug we looked at. And it's blue, which is Colin's favourite colour.
I tried to coax Caleb into an idea also, but he didn't come up with anything. I thought he might think about foods, especially breakfast, since he and James have breakfast together every morning together, but no such luck. When I was young my mom asked me what I wanted to get my Dad and I firmly stated "a can of peaches." I think, in that case, it was something I really liked, and so wanted to share with my dad. That is the first step of gift-giving. First you learn that giving a gift means giving something special, and as a kid the things you like yourself are what mean the most. A little later you start to think about the person themselves, their likes and interests. I really try to help the boys understand that giving gifts is not about the item, but about showing that you have given thought about the person, who they are, and what they are interested in. There is nothing like getting that perfect gift, and not because it was showy or expensive, but because you know you nailed it perfectly.
But I was able to dart out to the store yesterday with the boys so they could pick out a gift for Dad. I am of the ilk that if they can think of something they want to buy him, then we'll get that. I don't choose something for them to give. I really do believe it's the thought that counts rather than the gift. I try to give a little guidance to them. Here's the conversation I had with Colin:
Mommy: What do you think Dad would like for his birthday?
Colin: Hmmm. I don't know.
Mommy: Well, it helps to think about what he likes to do.
Colin: He likes to go and work in the basement. (James' business office is in our basement). I know! I should buy him a rug for the floor, since there is no carpet there anymore and it is cold on your feet in the basement.
(We had to rip up the carpet after the hot water heater tank leaked).
So off to the store we went to pick out a small rug. Colin wanted to buy a carpet that went wall-to-wall, but that was a little out of our budget. So he chose a soft blue bathmat. Actually, it's perfect. The rubber bottom will resist the dampness of an old basement, and the top part is softer than any other rug we looked at. And it's blue, which is Colin's favourite colour.
I tried to coax Caleb into an idea also, but he didn't come up with anything. I thought he might think about foods, especially breakfast, since he and James have breakfast together every morning together, but no such luck. When I was young my mom asked me what I wanted to get my Dad and I firmly stated "a can of peaches." I think, in that case, it was something I really liked, and so wanted to share with my dad. That is the first step of gift-giving. First you learn that giving a gift means giving something special, and as a kid the things you like yourself are what mean the most. A little later you start to think about the person themselves, their likes and interests. I really try to help the boys understand that giving gifts is not about the item, but about showing that you have given thought about the person, who they are, and what they are interested in. There is nothing like getting that perfect gift, and not because it was showy or expensive, but because you know you nailed it perfectly.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Mood swings
I am a fairly even tempered person. I have a lot of patience with people and situations. When there is trouble, my mind automatically kicks into problem-solving mode, so I rarely sit and stew over things.
This morning, however, I became acutely aware just how my own good or bad mood can have an over-reaching effect in my home. I received some disappointing news this morning, unexpected both in the content and the timing. While I did immediately start going over the different options and possibilities left to me, I was thoroughly put out.
What had started as a fairly pleasant morning, (the first day of summer vacation) suddenly turned sour. I heard a sharpness in my voice when I spoke with my boys. I had no patience for antics of any sort, or even the expected behaviour of 2 and 4 year olds. My mood was foul and I couldn't help but be bitter in everything I said and did. Worse, I was aware of my attitude and knew that it wasn't fair to those around me. But I just couldn't seem to lift myself out of it.
We passed the morning at a friend's home in a flurry of conversation. The boys were occupied with her children, and Benjamin was relatively quiet. I had a chance to offload about my situation, and then get my mind engaged in other issues. When the visit was over and I felt somewhat more settled (and less likely to explode) I decided to drop in for a visit with the vice principal of Colin's school to discuss what options we had, so that we might make an informed and best decision.
After a 45 minute wait (we were told she would be available in less than 5!), time spent trying to amuse Colin and Caleb, I walked into her office, ready to calmly discuss the situation. I wasn't looking to fight a losing battle for what I'd originally hoped for; instead I just wanted information about other options. But I had barely launched into my well rehearsed piece when she smiled and said that the matter had already been resolved, and a message to that fact was waiting on my answering machine at home! The whole situation was very reminiscent of the trouble I faced in September when I was trying to get Colin into a certain classroom for very specific reasons.
Suddenly the clouds parted and my mood lifted. I all but danced from the office to the van, smiling and laughing with the boys in a sing-song voice. And once again I was aware that my cheerful mood was spilling over onto how I communicated and interacted with my kids.
I felt today like a cartoon; the one where the person has a little storm cloud over their head when they are angry, and then a sun shining above when they are happy. It was all so obvious to me. It was also a poignant lesson in attitude. I have learned the powerful effect mood has on me and how I can unfairly take it out on those around me. I will definitely try harder in the future to take control of my emotions, find an outlet that isn't another person (kids, husband, family, friend, etc) and in so doing treat those around me more fairly.
This morning, however, I became acutely aware just how my own good or bad mood can have an over-reaching effect in my home. I received some disappointing news this morning, unexpected both in the content and the timing. While I did immediately start going over the different options and possibilities left to me, I was thoroughly put out.
What had started as a fairly pleasant morning, (the first day of summer vacation) suddenly turned sour. I heard a sharpness in my voice when I spoke with my boys. I had no patience for antics of any sort, or even the expected behaviour of 2 and 4 year olds. My mood was foul and I couldn't help but be bitter in everything I said and did. Worse, I was aware of my attitude and knew that it wasn't fair to those around me. But I just couldn't seem to lift myself out of it.
We passed the morning at a friend's home in a flurry of conversation. The boys were occupied with her children, and Benjamin was relatively quiet. I had a chance to offload about my situation, and then get my mind engaged in other issues. When the visit was over and I felt somewhat more settled (and less likely to explode) I decided to drop in for a visit with the vice principal of Colin's school to discuss what options we had, so that we might make an informed and best decision.
After a 45 minute wait (we were told she would be available in less than 5!), time spent trying to amuse Colin and Caleb, I walked into her office, ready to calmly discuss the situation. I wasn't looking to fight a losing battle for what I'd originally hoped for; instead I just wanted information about other options. But I had barely launched into my well rehearsed piece when she smiled and said that the matter had already been resolved, and a message to that fact was waiting on my answering machine at home! The whole situation was very reminiscent of the trouble I faced in September when I was trying to get Colin into a certain classroom for very specific reasons.
Suddenly the clouds parted and my mood lifted. I all but danced from the office to the van, smiling and laughing with the boys in a sing-song voice. And once again I was aware that my cheerful mood was spilling over onto how I communicated and interacted with my kids.
I felt today like a cartoon; the one where the person has a little storm cloud over their head when they are angry, and then a sun shining above when they are happy. It was all so obvious to me. It was also a poignant lesson in attitude. I have learned the powerful effect mood has on me and how I can unfairly take it out on those around me. I will definitely try harder in the future to take control of my emotions, find an outlet that isn't another person (kids, husband, family, friend, etc) and in so doing treat those around me more fairly.
Monday, 28 June 2010
Like mother, like son
After hearing Colin recite "The Polar Express," a friend asked if either James or I were similar when we were young. I initially gave the usual response that both of us enjoyed performing from a young age, and that while I can't seem to remember a book I read last month or an appointment I have tomorrow, I can memorize a Shakespeare monologue in 10 minutes.
Then I recalled an experience from years ago. When I was almost eight years old my family lived in England. We lived in a row of townhouses in a type of court. There were lots of kids in the area. I remember during the summer I would set out a blanket and then set my alarm clock. When it rang, the neighbourhood kids would all gather on my blanket and I would recite Robert Munsch stories to everyone. I can particularly recall performing "Mortimer" and "Thomas' Snowsuit."
Everyone always thinks of musical talent being passed through the family, or dance or a knack for fixing things or a technical mind. But I had never connected Colin's storytelling talent to my own experience before. It's so neat to see pieces of you emerge from your children.
Then I recalled an experience from years ago. When I was almost eight years old my family lived in England. We lived in a row of townhouses in a type of court. There were lots of kids in the area. I remember during the summer I would set out a blanket and then set my alarm clock. When it rang, the neighbourhood kids would all gather on my blanket and I would recite Robert Munsch stories to everyone. I can particularly recall performing "Mortimer" and "Thomas' Snowsuit."
Everyone always thinks of musical talent being passed through the family, or dance or a knack for fixing things or a technical mind. But I had never connected Colin's storytelling talent to my own experience before. It's so neat to see pieces of you emerge from your children.
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
It takes a village to raise a child
I firmly believe that it does take a village to raise a child, a concept that I think suffers in our age of over-protectiveness of our children and the (often justified) heightened sense of fear we experience as parents. We are afraid to let our kids be with other groups of people, and other adults especially, without hovering over them. I came to this realization the other day while shopping at a local farm. A woman I would call an acquaintance, who has a daughter around my kids' age, asked if she could take my boys up to see the chickens so I could shop in peace. My instinct was "no, that's okay, I can watch them, I don't want them that far out of sight, I don't know you as well as I should..." Then I realized that this was a safe environment, I have spoken with her lots around town, and the boys could learn a lot from this, both from the chickens and from someone else talking about them.
As soon as I said "yes," I was awash in that feeling of community. My boys need exposure to that kind of experience, and I need to help them learn and grow among all kinds of people, not just at their mama's side.
As soon as I said "yes," I was awash in that feeling of community. My boys need exposure to that kind of experience, and I need to help them learn and grow among all kinds of people, not just at their mama's side.
Thursday, 17 June 2010
Soccer Mom
I have entered a new stage of life...soccer mom!
I had all three boys by myself last night, as James had to work late and was going to meet us at the fields. When we arrived, I felt a surge of excitement run through me. It was chaos - but a good kind of chaos, as all the kids and parents wove through the throngs to find their team and jerseys. It's hard to describe, but the moment I stepped into the area I felt the mantle of soccer mom fall on me and knew that I was going to love this part of parenthood.
It was a crummy evening, but the organizers had already canceled the first two weeks due to weather. It had been raining on and off all day, including thundershowers in the morning. But when 6pm rolled around, I had decided that, canceled or not, I was heading up to the fields with my own ball. Colin was simply too disappointed after two rainy Wednesdays not to at least go up and kick around a ball. Gratefully the organizers knew that the kids would want to play as long as it wasn't teeming rain. So we froze our fingers and cheered in the drizzle, and the kids had a blast.
These six kids from Colin's team all found each other on their own, and started running down the hill hand in hand, over and over again. Talk about instinctive team building! (Colin is second from the left).
Colin's very first kick during practice. The kids have half hour of practice first, and then play a game. Colin is in the 4-6 year old league. There are about 10 kids on each team, and about 8 teams. His team is called "Kreator Equipement" (the teams are named after their sponsors). I think it would be neat if one year in the future Senior Moving can sponsor a team. And I'm sure at one point or another I'll coach!
During the game. Colin is the one in the red in the middle. He was right in the middle of the action throughout the entire game. There was one point where he was the only red shirt in a sea of blue opponents! He wasn't shy about trying to get in and kick the ball, but also seemed to understand to hold back when a lot of his teammates were already there. What can I say - the kid's a natural! (Guess where he gets it from.)
Everyone after the ball! In traditional 4 year old style, all the kids moved in one giant group after the ball.
Team huddle at the end of the game. Only 4 kids on our team survived the cold until the very end. Colin is number 2. The man in the red shirt, squatting down with them is Thomas, their coach. He's a young guy, perhaps even still in high school. He is a little unsure around the little kids, but he's really nice and the kids like him.
So the soccer season begins! It's a bit of a drive out to this league, but it's a much more relaxed atmosphere than the league in town, as well as only half the cost. A good friend has her girls on Colin's team, so there will always be friends and fun every Wednesday night for us!
I had all three boys by myself last night, as James had to work late and was going to meet us at the fields. When we arrived, I felt a surge of excitement run through me. It was chaos - but a good kind of chaos, as all the kids and parents wove through the throngs to find their team and jerseys. It's hard to describe, but the moment I stepped into the area I felt the mantle of soccer mom fall on me and knew that I was going to love this part of parenthood.
It was a crummy evening, but the organizers had already canceled the first two weeks due to weather. It had been raining on and off all day, including thundershowers in the morning. But when 6pm rolled around, I had decided that, canceled or not, I was heading up to the fields with my own ball. Colin was simply too disappointed after two rainy Wednesdays not to at least go up and kick around a ball. Gratefully the organizers knew that the kids would want to play as long as it wasn't teeming rain. So we froze our fingers and cheered in the drizzle, and the kids had a blast.
These six kids from Colin's team all found each other on their own, and started running down the hill hand in hand, over and over again. Talk about instinctive team building! (Colin is second from the left).
Colin's very first kick during practice. The kids have half hour of practice first, and then play a game. Colin is in the 4-6 year old league. There are about 10 kids on each team, and about 8 teams. His team is called "Kreator Equipement" (the teams are named after their sponsors). I think it would be neat if one year in the future Senior Moving can sponsor a team. And I'm sure at one point or another I'll coach!
During the game. Colin is the one in the red in the middle. He was right in the middle of the action throughout the entire game. There was one point where he was the only red shirt in a sea of blue opponents! He wasn't shy about trying to get in and kick the ball, but also seemed to understand to hold back when a lot of his teammates were already there. What can I say - the kid's a natural! (Guess where he gets it from.)
Everyone after the ball! In traditional 4 year old style, all the kids moved in one giant group after the ball.
Team huddle at the end of the game. Only 4 kids on our team survived the cold until the very end. Colin is number 2. The man in the red shirt, squatting down with them is Thomas, their coach. He's a young guy, perhaps even still in high school. He is a little unsure around the little kids, but he's really nice and the kids like him.So the soccer season begins! It's a bit of a drive out to this league, but it's a much more relaxed atmosphere than the league in town, as well as only half the cost. A good friend has her girls on Colin's team, so there will always be friends and fun every Wednesday night for us!
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
On the warpath
Watch out - I'm on the warpath today!
Saturday night I went to a housewarming party, and besides the fact that my friend's custom-designed house is gorgeous (her husband was the designer - lucky girl!) what I was most impressed by was how clean and neat it felt. Yes, this was due to a couple hours kid-free because she wanted to have the house tip top for the party. But more than that, it was not stuffed to the brim with stuff!
Today I visited with another friend, and her house (which holds 3 boys and a toddler daughter) had the same feeling. It felt clean and open and fresh and peaceful. I'm under no illusion that any house with kids in it can quickly descend into chaos. But what gets under my skin is that even when my house is tidy and clean it feels cluttered.
I was having a conversation about a house that is up for sale in the neighbourhood. Another friend of mine was looking to buy it, but the house is a century home, and as is often the case, the rooms are small. The bedrooms of this house, in particular, were deemed to small by my friend. That opened the conversation to how common that is in older century homes. They simply didn't own as much stuff as we do today, and so did not need tons of space.
So I am on the warpath. My goal: to rid each room of HALF its contents. In my friend's house today, I counted 7 items. That's it. A bookshelf, a couch, two chairs, a lamp, a piano and a toybox. And you know what? It didn't feel empty or missing something. It was just perfect. In my living room right now, there are 23 items that belong there (and another 12 that don't!). The same goes for the kitchen and the toy room. The bedrooms will have to wait for now, but they will be next. I will take a count of the items in these rooms and cut it by HALF!
Drastic? Yes. Necessary? YES! I long for that airy and open feel in both my friend's homes, and I hope that this will finally be the solution.
Saturday night I went to a housewarming party, and besides the fact that my friend's custom-designed house is gorgeous (her husband was the designer - lucky girl!) what I was most impressed by was how clean and neat it felt. Yes, this was due to a couple hours kid-free because she wanted to have the house tip top for the party. But more than that, it was not stuffed to the brim with stuff!
Today I visited with another friend, and her house (which holds 3 boys and a toddler daughter) had the same feeling. It felt clean and open and fresh and peaceful. I'm under no illusion that any house with kids in it can quickly descend into chaos. But what gets under my skin is that even when my house is tidy and clean it feels cluttered.
I was having a conversation about a house that is up for sale in the neighbourhood. Another friend of mine was looking to buy it, but the house is a century home, and as is often the case, the rooms are small. The bedrooms of this house, in particular, were deemed to small by my friend. That opened the conversation to how common that is in older century homes. They simply didn't own as much stuff as we do today, and so did not need tons of space.
So I am on the warpath. My goal: to rid each room of HALF its contents. In my friend's house today, I counted 7 items. That's it. A bookshelf, a couch, two chairs, a lamp, a piano and a toybox. And you know what? It didn't feel empty or missing something. It was just perfect. In my living room right now, there are 23 items that belong there (and another 12 that don't!). The same goes for the kitchen and the toy room. The bedrooms will have to wait for now, but they will be next. I will take a count of the items in these rooms and cut it by HALF!
Drastic? Yes. Necessary? YES! I long for that airy and open feel in both my friend's homes, and I hope that this will finally be the solution.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
Frustration in the store
You know how the experts always say that it's just best to avoid a toddler tantrum situation in the first place? Yes, I know that, too. Why I ignore it, I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm just in a no win situation.
I had just hyped Caleb up for a visit to the store, thinking my morning appointment had bombed on me. As we were climbing in the car, my girlfriends showed up. It was a three-way miscommunication about the time. So I promised Caleb we would hit the store after they were done.
Well, the appointment finished on time, but it was getting really close to lunch and nap. I knew that could be bad, but not going to the promised store would likely result in a meltdown at home. So really I was looking at the same result either way. So I went to the store.
Caleb wouldn't follow me. Then he lost his boot. Then he only wanted to wear one boot. Then he SCREAMED when I picked him and the boot up and left the store. On the way out, he wound up his hand and smacked me across the face. The kid has a great arm - it actually stung. I stopped, pulled him arms out of reach of my face and gave him the dreaded "mom stare". He was still hysterical.
The whole way home (2 minutes) he wailed. I calmly kept repeating every minute that he had hurt me and needed to say he was sorry. We were at an impasse.
I silently prepared his lunch. He smashed his hand in it, refusing to eat. I stayed quiet and ate my own lunch. Eventually Caleb capitulated and began to eat. Right now he is happy as a lark and ready to go for nap.
None of us are happy when we are hungry and tired, so why do I expect anything more from my two-year-old?
When will I learn?
I had just hyped Caleb up for a visit to the store, thinking my morning appointment had bombed on me. As we were climbing in the car, my girlfriends showed up. It was a three-way miscommunication about the time. So I promised Caleb we would hit the store after they were done.
Well, the appointment finished on time, but it was getting really close to lunch and nap. I knew that could be bad, but not going to the promised store would likely result in a meltdown at home. So really I was looking at the same result either way. So I went to the store.
Caleb wouldn't follow me. Then he lost his boot. Then he only wanted to wear one boot. Then he SCREAMED when I picked him and the boot up and left the store. On the way out, he wound up his hand and smacked me across the face. The kid has a great arm - it actually stung. I stopped, pulled him arms out of reach of my face and gave him the dreaded "mom stare". He was still hysterical.
The whole way home (2 minutes) he wailed. I calmly kept repeating every minute that he had hurt me and needed to say he was sorry. We were at an impasse.
I silently prepared his lunch. He smashed his hand in it, refusing to eat. I stayed quiet and ate my own lunch. Eventually Caleb capitulated and began to eat. Right now he is happy as a lark and ready to go for nap.
None of us are happy when we are hungry and tired, so why do I expect anything more from my two-year-old?
When will I learn?
Saturday, 15 May 2010
When I get tired and hungry and grumpy
Today was a whirlwind of a day in which I experienced my entire range of emotions.
It actually began yesterday with James and I going over what was to be a very busy day, filled with big chores to get done, plus a few of the regular every day ones, some shopping, some appointments - one of those days that must be carefully planned in order to be executed well.
Then the phone rang at 6:45 am. Our company was suddenly a man down, and James needed to go work a move. He needed to leave immediately and wouldn't return until late.
All of a sudden everyone was up (it's hard for anyone to be quiet when you have to get out the door in five minutes to go somewhere you really don't want to go). As I whisked the boys downstairs for breakfast, I started shifting the day around in my head, trying to figure out how on earth I would get everything done on my own, with three boys in tow. I could manage my hair appointment with the boys (begrudgingly) if I got Benjamin asleep in his carseat and brought the portable DVD player for the boys. They might sit for an hour and a half. Grocery shopping could be right after the haircut, or I might squeeze it in before if I bribe the boys with a visit to the Early Years Centre after. If all three napped at the same time I could start ripping up the carpet, and hope the electrician came before they woke up. After nap I would have just enough time to do a tide and clean of the whole house in preparation for a get together tomorrow night. I'd likely have to skip the drive to the dump, unless I did it in three or four trips of just the trunk full, with another movie on to keep the boys from going crazy...
On and on my brain swam, around and around as I tried to get the details worked out before I too much of the day got away from me and I lost valuable time. I was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when, lo and behold, James called to say he'd be back in 10 minutes, that he'd worked something out and was on his way home!
Inexplicably, I was a little annoyed, since I was so proud I had worked it all out to do on my own. I should have caught the sign that I was going to be moody all day...
The boys and I ran up the street to a yard sale a friend was having, not to buy anything but so the boys could play with their boys. Only it was barely above freezing, we weren't in winter gear, and in the first five minutes their friend and bowled over both boys, leaving them in tears.
We zipped back and I ran over to my hair appointment. It was a resounding success, and I have a cute new (very short!) summer hair cut. But usually on one of the two days a year I actually get my hair cut, I like to do things all for me - shopping, go for lunch, visit with girl friends, go on a date with James - something to help me remember what it's like being a woman and not only a mother. But there was cleaning and carpets calling me.
The rest of the day was a blur. Neither Benjamin nor Colin napped, which didn't give me any time to myself. Colin, who is usually excellent at playing on his own for quiet time if he doesn't nap, couldn't go two minutes without calling me. Benjamin was plain old tired. James was ripping up the carpet in the basement, where the boys couldn't be, which meant I was looking after them until he was done. But the stupid business phone rang all day, which meant the one hour carpet job turned into 5 and a half. Which meant that I didn't get my much needed break.
I just need a little time away on Saturdays. By the time dinnertime rolled around, I didn't want to hear any more voices or see any more faces. I had had ENOUGH! I was on the brink of tears, tears of exhaustion and anger and frustration. The boys asked for a snack and I wanted to scream. Benjamin started whimpering and I wanted to scream. The business phone rang again and I wanted to scream!
I threw some spaghetti on and dumped a jar of sauce on top. Luckily there were frozen spring rolls in the freezer, or pasta and canned sauce was all they were getting for dinner. I was in no mood to supplement it with garlic toast or salad. They were all lucky they were getting fed.
After dinner I quickly escaped to do the grocery shopping. I used to hate grocery shopping more than anything else I had to do. Now I relish the time away. Every week we must eat, therefore every week I must take 45 minutes out of a Saturday and buy food. I shop at a store open 24 hours. Some weeks I like to go at 10 or 11 at night just to have a little quiet.
I was in a better mood when I got back. Which was good because Caleb and Benjamin were both screaming when I opened the door. I ran up and nursed Benjamin and rocked him, then rescued Caleb from the bath (and the mean Daddy who insists on rinsing the soap out of his hair!). I soothed and cuddled and made them laugh. Then I told James that we could spend an hour or two together and then he could go over to a friend's house. I really needed a little time to myself, most likely to write (check) and read (next).
To top the day off, it was a grey-sky-day all day, which always gets me grumpy. Here's to tomorrow, which "after all...is another day" and hopefully a sunny day, a peaceful day, a day of rest. We are having people over for dinner, but I have planned ahead with a crock pot meal. Hopefully everyone will nap, and I will be a lot less irritable. I have heard over and over how the mother sets the atmosphere in the home, and I take that influence very seriously. But I am grateful my children don't seem to log the down days I have, the days when my patience is too short and my temper too loud. Tomorrow I will do better.
It actually began yesterday with James and I going over what was to be a very busy day, filled with big chores to get done, plus a few of the regular every day ones, some shopping, some appointments - one of those days that must be carefully planned in order to be executed well.
Then the phone rang at 6:45 am. Our company was suddenly a man down, and James needed to go work a move. He needed to leave immediately and wouldn't return until late.
All of a sudden everyone was up (it's hard for anyone to be quiet when you have to get out the door in five minutes to go somewhere you really don't want to go). As I whisked the boys downstairs for breakfast, I started shifting the day around in my head, trying to figure out how on earth I would get everything done on my own, with three boys in tow. I could manage my hair appointment with the boys (begrudgingly) if I got Benjamin asleep in his carseat and brought the portable DVD player for the boys. They might sit for an hour and a half. Grocery shopping could be right after the haircut, or I might squeeze it in before if I bribe the boys with a visit to the Early Years Centre after. If all three napped at the same time I could start ripping up the carpet, and hope the electrician came before they woke up. After nap I would have just enough time to do a tide and clean of the whole house in preparation for a get together tomorrow night. I'd likely have to skip the drive to the dump, unless I did it in three or four trips of just the trunk full, with another movie on to keep the boys from going crazy...
On and on my brain swam, around and around as I tried to get the details worked out before I too much of the day got away from me and I lost valuable time. I was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when, lo and behold, James called to say he'd be back in 10 minutes, that he'd worked something out and was on his way home!
Inexplicably, I was a little annoyed, since I was so proud I had worked it all out to do on my own. I should have caught the sign that I was going to be moody all day...
The boys and I ran up the street to a yard sale a friend was having, not to buy anything but so the boys could play with their boys. Only it was barely above freezing, we weren't in winter gear, and in the first five minutes their friend and bowled over both boys, leaving them in tears.
We zipped back and I ran over to my hair appointment. It was a resounding success, and I have a cute new (very short!) summer hair cut. But usually on one of the two days a year I actually get my hair cut, I like to do things all for me - shopping, go for lunch, visit with girl friends, go on a date with James - something to help me remember what it's like being a woman and not only a mother. But there was cleaning and carpets calling me.
The rest of the day was a blur. Neither Benjamin nor Colin napped, which didn't give me any time to myself. Colin, who is usually excellent at playing on his own for quiet time if he doesn't nap, couldn't go two minutes without calling me. Benjamin was plain old tired. James was ripping up the carpet in the basement, where the boys couldn't be, which meant I was looking after them until he was done. But the stupid business phone rang all day, which meant the one hour carpet job turned into 5 and a half. Which meant that I didn't get my much needed break.
I just need a little time away on Saturdays. By the time dinnertime rolled around, I didn't want to hear any more voices or see any more faces. I had had ENOUGH! I was on the brink of tears, tears of exhaustion and anger and frustration. The boys asked for a snack and I wanted to scream. Benjamin started whimpering and I wanted to scream. The business phone rang again and I wanted to scream!
I threw some spaghetti on and dumped a jar of sauce on top. Luckily there were frozen spring rolls in the freezer, or pasta and canned sauce was all they were getting for dinner. I was in no mood to supplement it with garlic toast or salad. They were all lucky they were getting fed.
After dinner I quickly escaped to do the grocery shopping. I used to hate grocery shopping more than anything else I had to do. Now I relish the time away. Every week we must eat, therefore every week I must take 45 minutes out of a Saturday and buy food. I shop at a store open 24 hours. Some weeks I like to go at 10 or 11 at night just to have a little quiet.
I was in a better mood when I got back. Which was good because Caleb and Benjamin were both screaming when I opened the door. I ran up and nursed Benjamin and rocked him, then rescued Caleb from the bath (and the mean Daddy who insists on rinsing the soap out of his hair!). I soothed and cuddled and made them laugh. Then I told James that we could spend an hour or two together and then he could go over to a friend's house. I really needed a little time to myself, most likely to write (check) and read (next).
To top the day off, it was a grey-sky-day all day, which always gets me grumpy. Here's to tomorrow, which "after all...is another day" and hopefully a sunny day, a peaceful day, a day of rest. We are having people over for dinner, but I have planned ahead with a crock pot meal. Hopefully everyone will nap, and I will be a lot less irritable. I have heard over and over how the mother sets the atmosphere in the home, and I take that influence very seriously. But I am grateful my children don't seem to log the down days I have, the days when my patience is too short and my temper too loud. Tomorrow I will do better.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
Grattitude
Thank you for naps. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
I am so grateful both my boys still take two hour naps, and that Benjamin is kind enough to coordinate his afternoon nap at the same time.
And I am grateful my body will drift off as well for much needed sleep.
I am so grateful both my boys still take two hour naps, and that Benjamin is kind enough to coordinate his afternoon nap at the same time.
And I am grateful my body will drift off as well for much needed sleep.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Mother's Day
Another wonderful Mother's Day. A lazy morning with no church meetings for James! Usually it's a long three hours on my own with the kids, then a short 10 minutes once he gets home for me to jump in the shower and get ready. Not this morning. This morning I was treated to French Toast and bacon and orange juice, my favourite breakfast in the whole wide world. Then I got a nice shower and time to get dressed and do my hair (okay, it was another ponytail, but at least there were no kids at my legs while I did it!) and makeup. At church, James sang a beautiful solo about mothers while I accompanied. I love when we have the opportunity to sing/play/perform together. Lots of cuddles with Benjamin today, and a nice long nap with him in the afternoon. I was blessed with lots of extra patience with the older boys today, and realized how easy things can be when I access that store of patience. Barbecue over at James' parents' house, where we celebrated three generations of mothers. News from a best friend that she will be a mother for the first time later this year. And now a quiet evening with the man that made my motherhood a reality. Life is good.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Time Out For Women
Colin: Where's Mommy?
James: She's at Time Out For Women this weekend.
Colin: Why? Were they all naughty?
***
No, we weren't naughty. We were just 1200 women taking a "time out" to be emotionally and spiritually refreshed. This is the second time this conference has come to the Toronto Area, and even with a nursing baby, I knew I wasn't going to miss it. (Benjamin came with me, and was not only good as gold, but charmed every one of those women there! Someone even told me that he was by far the cutest baby there. Again, it's that charming smile of his that he doles out to all who pass by.)
There were speakers and singers, laughter and tears, and a whole lot of motivation and inspiration. Even if I had had a free hand to take copious notes, I'm not sure I would write them all here. Rather than a simple diary of who I saw and what they said, I'd much rather simply record the impressions I was left with, and a few of the ideas born in my mind.
The theme of the conference was "Infinite Hope." One speaker, a survivor of the terrors and wars in Sierra Leone, Africa, spoke of the power of hope. Hope is something that can stay alive always, as long as you believe in it, cling to it. I cannot recall the historical person of whom this story is about, but this person was a medical researcher of sorts. He devoted his life to finding a cure for a disease with which his mother was inflicted. Someone once asked him: "what will you do if the day comes that you realize you cannot find a cure?" He replied: "I don't know, because that day will never come. I will never stop trying."
There is so much pain and suffering in the world, that at times it seems there is so little I can do. Not only that, but I feel that I simply don't have what is needed to effect any change. But of these five things, I have infinite of them to give:
a smile
a cheerful greeting
a song
time
prayer
These five things have power in them beyond what I may recognize. It may be a small sacrifice on my part, and yet in imparting this of myself may give someone a greater gift than I could ever understand.
We often hear of the parable of the lost sheep. Jesus will leave the 99 sheep to go after the one little lost lamb. But what of the 99? What of those who continue pressing forward in faith their whole lives, never straying too far from the fold? Though we may feel His attention is unnecessary because we are not lost, it is important to recall that we are still His. He still loves us, knows us, speaks with us, guides us, hears our prayers, and answers those prayers.
Mediocrity comes from a latin root meaning "halfway up the mountain." So if you feel that your life is one of mediocrity, remember that it means you've already climbed half way up! You're not at the bottom, staring up and saying "it's not even worth trying." Don't give up!
Often the question is posed: "have you been saved by grace?" But perhaps the real question is "have you been changed by grace?"
There are thousands of conferences that happen every year. People often pay lots of money to attend them, in hopes of learning new things, changing themselves, finding new paths, and a thousand other reasons. But surveys show that almost no one who attends a conference like this actually changes their in in any way afterward. And so we were encouraged not to overwhelm ourselves with goals and in the process give up at the enormity of the task. Instead, we were asked to just pick a few things and really and truly try to do something about it. Here are my ideas:
1) share my love of learning with Caleb by doing one of the 365 activities for pre-schoolers with him
2) give Colin five minutes at bedtime, once he is in bed, to just talk freely about all those thoughts that fill his mind just as I'm about to turn off the light.
3) have meaningful talk with James. With him, not at him. With the intention of sharing my ideas and hearing his, not trying to sway him over to my point of view.
And now I have yet another two books to peruse through. I have put a self-imposed moratorium on buying books until I read those that I already have!
***
Things sort of fell apart Friday before I had to leave, and so I apologized profusely to James as I left the house in a bit of a disaster, knowing that he would also be on his own with the boys for Friday night and Saturday. But once again I can brag about having the best husband in the world. When I returned home at dinner time, happy yet exhausted, the house was tidied, the dishes done, the bathroom cleaned, the floors swept, the children dressed, clean and happy, and dinner plans taken care of. And he even entertained family Friday night and had a friend and his girls over Saturday morning. If ever doubt creeps into my mind about James' ability to "handle" things while I'm gone, I will pull from my memory the moment when I walked in the door and beheld what had happened while I was away. He is the man!
James: She's at Time Out For Women this weekend.
Colin: Why? Were they all naughty?
***
No, we weren't naughty. We were just 1200 women taking a "time out" to be emotionally and spiritually refreshed. This is the second time this conference has come to the Toronto Area, and even with a nursing baby, I knew I wasn't going to miss it. (Benjamin came with me, and was not only good as gold, but charmed every one of those women there! Someone even told me that he was by far the cutest baby there. Again, it's that charming smile of his that he doles out to all who pass by.)
There were speakers and singers, laughter and tears, and a whole lot of motivation and inspiration. Even if I had had a free hand to take copious notes, I'm not sure I would write them all here. Rather than a simple diary of who I saw and what they said, I'd much rather simply record the impressions I was left with, and a few of the ideas born in my mind.
The theme of the conference was "Infinite Hope." One speaker, a survivor of the terrors and wars in Sierra Leone, Africa, spoke of the power of hope. Hope is something that can stay alive always, as long as you believe in it, cling to it. I cannot recall the historical person of whom this story is about, but this person was a medical researcher of sorts. He devoted his life to finding a cure for a disease with which his mother was inflicted. Someone once asked him: "what will you do if the day comes that you realize you cannot find a cure?" He replied: "I don't know, because that day will never come. I will never stop trying."
There is so much pain and suffering in the world, that at times it seems there is so little I can do. Not only that, but I feel that I simply don't have what is needed to effect any change. But of these five things, I have infinite of them to give:
a smile
a cheerful greeting
a song
time
prayer
These five things have power in them beyond what I may recognize. It may be a small sacrifice on my part, and yet in imparting this of myself may give someone a greater gift than I could ever understand.
We often hear of the parable of the lost sheep. Jesus will leave the 99 sheep to go after the one little lost lamb. But what of the 99? What of those who continue pressing forward in faith their whole lives, never straying too far from the fold? Though we may feel His attention is unnecessary because we are not lost, it is important to recall that we are still His. He still loves us, knows us, speaks with us, guides us, hears our prayers, and answers those prayers.
Mediocrity comes from a latin root meaning "halfway up the mountain." So if you feel that your life is one of mediocrity, remember that it means you've already climbed half way up! You're not at the bottom, staring up and saying "it's not even worth trying." Don't give up!
Often the question is posed: "have you been saved by grace?" But perhaps the real question is "have you been changed by grace?"
There are thousands of conferences that happen every year. People often pay lots of money to attend them, in hopes of learning new things, changing themselves, finding new paths, and a thousand other reasons. But surveys show that almost no one who attends a conference like this actually changes their in in any way afterward. And so we were encouraged not to overwhelm ourselves with goals and in the process give up at the enormity of the task. Instead, we were asked to just pick a few things and really and truly try to do something about it. Here are my ideas:
1) share my love of learning with Caleb by doing one of the 365 activities for pre-schoolers with him
2) give Colin five minutes at bedtime, once he is in bed, to just talk freely about all those thoughts that fill his mind just as I'm about to turn off the light.
3) have meaningful talk with James. With him, not at him. With the intention of sharing my ideas and hearing his, not trying to sway him over to my point of view.
And now I have yet another two books to peruse through. I have put a self-imposed moratorium on buying books until I read those that I already have!
***
Things sort of fell apart Friday before I had to leave, and so I apologized profusely to James as I left the house in a bit of a disaster, knowing that he would also be on his own with the boys for Friday night and Saturday. But once again I can brag about having the best husband in the world. When I returned home at dinner time, happy yet exhausted, the house was tidied, the dishes done, the bathroom cleaned, the floors swept, the children dressed, clean and happy, and dinner plans taken care of. And he even entertained family Friday night and had a friend and his girls over Saturday morning. If ever doubt creeps into my mind about James' ability to "handle" things while I'm gone, I will pull from my memory the moment when I walked in the door and beheld what had happened while I was away. He is the man!
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Don't sweat the small stuff
After three bowls of Rice Krispies this morning, Caleb had finished the bag. He asked for more. I told him when I was done checking my email, I would get him some new cereal from the storage downstairs. Instead, my resourceful two-year old found the Raisin Bran in the pantry in the kitchen, pulled it out, pulled out the bag from the box and started eating it by the fistful. Deciding it looked like too much fun, Colin has also joined in. Yes, my kids love Raisin Bran, but they are also enjoying the game of digging for raisins. Colin is concentrating really hard as the "treasures" become harder and harder to find. Now they are bringing handfuls of cereal to the table to show me. Now Caleb put his handful on the floor to eat. At least I mopped yesterday.
Don't sweat the small stuff.
Don't sweat the small stuff.
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