It was a long and busy day today. I took Allie out shopping for warmer clothes. Shopping with an adolescent daughter is always a tightrope walk. Sometimes we have a wonderful time. Sometimes there are short fuses and tears. Today fell somewhere in the middle. We did - after many hours - finally find some things we were both happy with. The day ended well. She was happy and grateful which left me the same.
And when I walked in the door to my home, after just a few hours away, I was met with two fans squealing my name and clamoring to touch me. It is such an exquisite thing, the uninhibited, unconditional love of little ones. And I am so thankful today for this undue gift. Even more so for knowing how soon it will slip away, like water through my fingers.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Gratitude quickie - Day 14
The Man is out for the evening playing poker with his friends. The weekids are in bed and I'm hanging out with Brandon and Allie and one of Allie's friends. We're eating ice cream and playing word games and having a heckuva time.
I have cool kids. Cool, smart kids - Brandon keeps kicking my butt at Twirl. So in the interest of getting back to the important stuff - I'm just going to keep this short and just say:
I am thankful for my life as a mom of two teenagers (OK, one teenager and one almost teenager.)
It's hard. Really hard. But when it's good, there's nothing better.
I have cool kids. Cool, smart kids - Brandon keeps kicking my butt at Twirl. So in the interest of getting back to the important stuff - I'm just going to keep this short and just say:
I am thankful for my life as a mom of two teenagers (OK, one teenager and one almost teenager.)
It's hard. Really hard. But when it's good, there's nothing better.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Gratitude - Day 13 (Books)
Tonight I loaded the Weekids into the car at 8PM to take Allison to our used book store. She had run out of books and it was "an emergency!" In her defense, she has been doing extra Weekid watching and I had agreed to compensate her in used books. But the hour of our book run was a prime example of the coddling I was referring to in my last post. That girl knows my weaknesses too well. I doubt I would have made it through my truly horrible middle school experience without books. And even now, I have been known to prowl the house like a jittery addict when I run out of things to read. I can't fall asleep without at least one chapter to ease the transition from real life to dreams.
So simply because her quirks mirror my own, I caved. And withstood squinty looks from the staff while attempting to keep Ben and Clara from completely trashing the small children's section thirty minutes before closing. So she could select a few borderline appropriate young adult novels.
Oh, and for the record, Publishers...if a book has sex in it, it should NOT be labeled YA. I don't care if the sex is between teenagers. That just makes it more inappropriate for my impressionable girl to read. Please move these books to the adult section. Or maybe create a new section called "Books with teenager characters that have sex and/or do drugs and curse like sailors." But I digress.
Later this evening, as I was sitting on the sofa with my husband watching Survivor no less, it dawned on me that in 2008 there are still many people for whom this experience would have been inconceivable. And by "experience" I don't mean wrestling a two-year-old out of a lovely display case of handmade quilts at the bookstore. (Oh yes, she crawled in and made herself at home!) I mean going to a bookstore. I mean reading a book.
I don't think I had ever thought about this before.
I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn't love books. Being read to by my mother is ingrained in my earliest memories. It's one of the few things I was passionate about passing on to my own children. Realizing that there are still many children in undeveloped countries who will live their lives without ever reading, or being read to, is just another reminder that I will never really be able to comprehend how blessed I am.
So today I am thankful for books. For the people who taught me to read them. For growing up loving them. For passing that love on to at least one of my children (The jury's still out on the other three.) And for living in a society where I have access to more books than I could ever read, for free.
And, if I may make a plug, for organizations like Compassion International who are changing communities one child at time. So that hopefully, one day, no child will grow up without food, or medicine, or books, or hope.
So simply because her quirks mirror my own, I caved. And withstood squinty looks from the staff while attempting to keep Ben and Clara from completely trashing the small children's section thirty minutes before closing. So she could select a few borderline appropriate young adult novels.
Oh, and for the record, Publishers...if a book has sex in it, it should NOT be labeled YA. I don't care if the sex is between teenagers. That just makes it more inappropriate for my impressionable girl to read. Please move these books to the adult section. Or maybe create a new section called "Books with teenager characters that have sex and/or do drugs and curse like sailors." But I digress.
Later this evening, as I was sitting on the sofa with my husband watching Survivor no less, it dawned on me that in 2008 there are still many people for whom this experience would have been inconceivable. And by "experience" I don't mean wrestling a two-year-old out of a lovely display case of handmade quilts at the bookstore. (Oh yes, she crawled in and made herself at home!) I mean going to a bookstore. I mean reading a book.
I don't think I had ever thought about this before.
I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn't love books. Being read to by my mother is ingrained in my earliest memories. It's one of the few things I was passionate about passing on to my own children. Realizing that there are still many children in undeveloped countries who will live their lives without ever reading, or being read to, is just another reminder that I will never really be able to comprehend how blessed I am.
So today I am thankful for books. For the people who taught me to read them. For growing up loving them. For passing that love on to at least one of my children (The jury's still out on the other three.) And for living in a society where I have access to more books than I could ever read, for free.
And, if I may make a plug, for organizations like Compassion International who are changing communities one child at time. So that hopefully, one day, no child will grow up without food, or medicine, or books, or hope.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Gratitude - Day 12
Ben can't write. He knows all his letters. He knows all the sounds they make. He's just on the cusp of putting them together into words. He's discovered that adding or subtracting a letter can change things. He's fascinated by this. His enthusiasm makes my heart swell. I am thrilled with where he is cognitively. He's funny. And well mannered. And a people pleaser. And enthusiastic about everything. But he can't write.
He attempts to write B. E. N. on papers but it's pretty much illegible. He can't even trace B. e. n. with a modicum of success. He just can't. This has started to bother me. To cause me to worry. And that worry is making me angry. He's four.
And I want him to be four.
I don't want to care about whether his fine motor skills are going to give him trouble when he enters kindergarten next year. (Because I suspect they are.) I want him to explore what he is passionate about and nudge him gently towards things he may not be. I want him to sing songs and climb on rocks and read lots of books and color pictures and pretend to be a pirate for hours on end. I don't want him to sit at the table practicing writing his letters. He's not ready. Or maybe he is.
I'm not ready.
I'm not ready for the next phase. Where they started getting rated by what they can and cannot do. Where words like "behind" and "struggling" and "needs extra help" enter our vocabulary. Again.
Allison's having a difficult time in school. I have alluded to this several times before. I won't go into details but let's just say she's in 7th grade. And her problems are not academic. For the first time since first or second grade she leaves for school each morning dreading the day ahead of her. She feels unwelcome. Unaccepted. The other day she told me she feels invisible. And my heart, it crumbled.
I am relieved that Allie is talking to me about what is going on with her. But I don't know how to fix this for her, and it's killing me. I walk around with a pit of anxiety boiling in my stomach. Imagining her feeling unwanted. Imagining her feeling unworthy. I find myself treating her differently. I don't make her do quite as much around the house. I buy her small things to make her smile. I write her little notes. When she walks in the door from school I can't help but pounce on her, asking her a little too cheerfully and pointedly how her day was. I want so badly to make home a soft and comforting place to land.
When Allison was Ben's age we had concerns about her starting kindergarten the next year. Her birthday falls 6 days before the cut-off so she was the youngest. She didn't really know her letters and she was just seemed immature compared to the other kids. It seems so obvious to me now that she wasn't ready. But her teachers encouraged us to send her on, and so we did. (Incidentally her fine motor skills were amazing)
Eventually she caught up academically but socially she has always been younger. We will always regret the decision we made to send her on. Even now, eight years later, I cannot help but wonder if she would be in this place if she were a year older.
Did we make the right decision by her back then?
Probably not.
Did that decision cause her the pain she is experiencing now?
I don't know. There is no way too know.
Is it helping her to deal with her current situation by coddling her at home?
I don't know.
Am I afraid to send Ben on to Kindergarten because of Allie's struggles then and now.
Probably.
Would it be the right decision to hold him back as well?
I don't know.
I just don't. And it kills me that I don't. And that I may never know if the decision I make is the right one. The most difficult part of parenting is not doing what needs to be done, but knowing what to do. And relying on God when you don't. I'm not so good at this.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Today I am thankful for my two sensitive children.
May I always do right by you. And may my prayers be enough to carry you when I don't.
He attempts to write B. E. N. on papers but it's pretty much illegible. He can't even trace B. e. n. with a modicum of success. He just can't. This has started to bother me. To cause me to worry. And that worry is making me angry. He's four.
And I want him to be four.
I don't want to care about whether his fine motor skills are going to give him trouble when he enters kindergarten next year. (Because I suspect they are.) I want him to explore what he is passionate about and nudge him gently towards things he may not be. I want him to sing songs and climb on rocks and read lots of books and color pictures and pretend to be a pirate for hours on end. I don't want him to sit at the table practicing writing his letters. He's not ready. Or maybe he is.
I'm not ready.
I'm not ready for the next phase. Where they started getting rated by what they can and cannot do. Where words like "behind" and "struggling" and "needs extra help" enter our vocabulary. Again.
Allison's having a difficult time in school. I have alluded to this several times before. I won't go into details but let's just say she's in 7th grade. And her problems are not academic. For the first time since first or second grade she leaves for school each morning dreading the day ahead of her. She feels unwelcome. Unaccepted. The other day she told me she feels invisible. And my heart, it crumbled.
I am relieved that Allie is talking to me about what is going on with her. But I don't know how to fix this for her, and it's killing me. I walk around with a pit of anxiety boiling in my stomach. Imagining her feeling unwanted. Imagining her feeling unworthy. I find myself treating her differently. I don't make her do quite as much around the house. I buy her small things to make her smile. I write her little notes. When she walks in the door from school I can't help but pounce on her, asking her a little too cheerfully and pointedly how her day was. I want so badly to make home a soft and comforting place to land.
When Allison was Ben's age we had concerns about her starting kindergarten the next year. Her birthday falls 6 days before the cut-off so she was the youngest. She didn't really know her letters and she was just seemed immature compared to the other kids. It seems so obvious to me now that she wasn't ready. But her teachers encouraged us to send her on, and so we did. (Incidentally her fine motor skills were amazing)
Eventually she caught up academically but socially she has always been younger. We will always regret the decision we made to send her on. Even now, eight years later, I cannot help but wonder if she would be in this place if she were a year older.
Did we make the right decision by her back then?
Probably not.
Did that decision cause her the pain she is experiencing now?
I don't know. There is no way too know.
Is it helping her to deal with her current situation by coddling her at home?
I don't know.
Am I afraid to send Ben on to Kindergarten because of Allie's struggles then and now.
Probably.
Would it be the right decision to hold him back as well?
I don't know.
I just don't. And it kills me that I don't. And that I may never know if the decision I make is the right one. The most difficult part of parenting is not doing what needs to be done, but knowing what to do. And relying on God when you don't. I'm not so good at this.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Today I am thankful for my two sensitive children.
May I always do right by you. And may my prayers be enough to carry you when I don't.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Gratitude - Day 11 (Crockpot condoms, peppermint mocha, and a blurry picture)
Imagine my surprise to find out that some of you were not familiar with slow cooker liners, which are - as Karen pointed out - also commonly called crock pot condoms. I might, however, refrain from referring to them as such when trying to locate them at your local grocery store. Just so ya know, they are located with the Ziplock baggies and saran warp. I am delighted to have been able to share such life changing information with my readers. BigMama* has her trip to the Dominican. I have crock pot condoms. We all do what we can.
So now I'm thinking we should all do some kind of post-your-favorite-slow-cooker-recipe carnival in honor of not having to clean our slow cookers. What do you think? Would you participate?
As for gratitude, today I am grateful that there was Coffeemate Peppermint Mocha Creamer at my Publix. They've been out since it arrived on the shelves. I'm starting to doubt it was ever really there. I think they may have been trying to build up demand with the "Peppermint Mocha" label in front of a large gaping hole in the creamer section. Like with gas. Encourage peppermint mocha creamer hording. It worked. I bought three.
And I am thankful that yesterday, while making dinner I stumbled upon something previously thought to be an urban legend. Look:
Four children. Snuggled together on the sofa. With no fighting or bickering or pushing for an entire hour. Yes, the spaced out expressions are because they were watching Ratatouille on TV. But I won't make a single apology about it. An HOUR, uninterrupted, to make dinner take pictures and post them on my blog while my children enjoyed tolerated each others company.
That's the American dream right there.
* Please don't take my attempt at humor as diminishing anything the compassion bloggers are doing to make a difference. This is a wonderful group of people and a wonderful organization. If you haven't been there, you really should check it out.
So now I'm thinking we should all do some kind of post-your-favorite-slow-cooker-recipe carnival in honor of not having to clean our slow cookers. What do you think? Would you participate?
As for gratitude, today I am grateful that there was Coffeemate Peppermint Mocha Creamer at my Publix. They've been out since it arrived on the shelves. I'm starting to doubt it was ever really there. I think they may have been trying to build up demand with the "Peppermint Mocha" label in front of a large gaping hole in the creamer section. Like with gas. Encourage peppermint mocha creamer hording. It worked. I bought three.
And I am thankful that yesterday, while making dinner I stumbled upon something previously thought to be an urban legend. Look:
Four children. Snuggled together on the sofa. With no fighting or bickering or pushing for an entire hour. Yes, the spaced out expressions are because they were watching Ratatouille on TV. But I won't make a single apology about it. An HOUR, uninterrupted, to That's the American dream right there.
* Please don't take my attempt at humor as diminishing anything the compassion bloggers are doing to make a difference. This is a wonderful group of people and a wonderful organization. If you haven't been there, you really should check it out.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Gratitude - Day 10 (A wandering mind)
Today I made chicken and rice in the crockpot. I love those crock pot liners they came out with in the last couple years, and yes, that's what I am thankful for. I think they are worthy of an award. It gives me great satisfaction to bundle up the nasty goop from the bottom of the pot and throw it all away. I use the slow cooker once a week now and I think it's partly because of not having to clean it. What can I say, I am a dirty dishes wimp. My daughter comes by it naturally.
It occurred to me today, as I was smoothing down my liner before throwing in chicken, that this is an incredibly simple concept that could be applied to other areas of my life. Like what about a liner for the bottom of my purse? I could remove the cell phone, wallet and umbrella and then pull out the liner to throw away the 67 receipts, cracker crumbs, used tissues, stray army men, straw wrappers and the half eaten sucker.
Voila!
Or what about a liner to completely cover the floorboard of the car. Just like that... happy meal toys, 18 pieces of school/church/bible study artwork, french fries, gold fish, crayons from the Mexican restaurant, stray army men, empty water bottles and the dried milk from the spill last Friday.
You know what, I could even take this a step further and just line the entire inside of my house with plastic. Then when we pulled it up each week all the crunched up cheerios, dog hair, and sand tracked in from the sandbox would come with it. Oh, I am sure we'd loose some toys (stupid army men) hairbows and shoes, and an occasional ipod or pet in the process. But just imagine the benefits. I'd never vaccuum up another polly pocket or lego again. In fact, I don't think I'd even need a vaccuum. And I'm sure the kids would start picking up their stuff eventually, when they are down to one brown dress shoe and some coasters to play with.
So that's what I need. Disposable liners for the inside of my purse. And car. And house. So I can wad up all the left over trash and throw it away.
And, it seems, one for my brain as well. There is obviously a lot of stray trash in there. Like this whole ridiculous post.
Crockpot liners...that's what I am thankful for.
It occurred to me today, as I was smoothing down my liner before throwing in chicken, that this is an incredibly simple concept that could be applied to other areas of my life. Like what about a liner for the bottom of my purse? I could remove the cell phone, wallet and umbrella and then pull out the liner to throw away the 67 receipts, cracker crumbs, used tissues, stray army men, straw wrappers and the half eaten sucker.
Voila!
Or what about a liner to completely cover the floorboard of the car. Just like that... happy meal toys, 18 pieces of school/church/bible study artwork, french fries, gold fish, crayons from the Mexican restaurant, stray army men, empty water bottles and the dried milk from the spill last Friday.
You know what, I could even take this a step further and just line the entire inside of my house with plastic. Then when we pulled it up each week all the crunched up cheerios, dog hair, and sand tracked in from the sandbox would come with it. Oh, I am sure we'd loose some toys (stupid army men) hairbows and shoes, and an occasional ipod or pet in the process. But just imagine the benefits. I'd never vaccuum up another polly pocket or lego again. In fact, I don't think I'd even need a vaccuum. And I'm sure the kids would start picking up their stuff eventually, when they are down to one brown dress shoe and some coasters to play with.
So that's what I need. Disposable liners for the inside of my purse. And car. And house. So I can wad up all the left over trash and throw it away.
And, it seems, one for my brain as well. There is obviously a lot of stray trash in there. Like this whole ridiculous post.
Crockpot liners...that's what I am thankful for.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Gratitude - Day 9 (Three hundred)
This is my three-hundredth post.
300 posts! I can not fathom how I still have something to say. But even more so, I cannot fathom what you people are still doing here!
But oh how I love it. This crazy self-indulgent kinda scary, kinda great, addiction of putting my words, my fears, my joys, my silliness, my heart out there. Out here. And I love all of you, for each. and. every:
I know.
I hear you.
I get it.
I'm so happy for you.
I'm so sorry.
You made me laugh.
You made me cry.
I've totally been there.
You're kidding me.
I'm praying for you.
You can do it.
You're kids are so cute.
This is what I did...
I'm listening.
Me too.
Have fun.
You are a good mother.
You'll be OK.
She'll be OK.
He'll be OK.
Don't give up.
I love you.
that you have given me. I don't get back to all of you the way I should. And I don't understand why you are still here.
But, I am so, so grateful that you are.
300 posts! I can not fathom how I still have something to say. But even more so, I cannot fathom what you people are still doing here!
But oh how I love it. This crazy self-indulgent kinda scary, kinda great, addiction of putting my words, my fears, my joys, my silliness, my heart out there. Out here. And I love all of you, for each. and. every:
I know.
I hear you.
I get it.
I'm so happy for you.
I'm so sorry.
You made me laugh.
You made me cry.
I've totally been there.
You're kidding me.
I'm praying for you.
You can do it.
You're kids are so cute.
This is what I did...
I'm listening.
Me too.
Have fun.
You are a good mother.
You'll be OK.
She'll be OK.
He'll be OK.
Don't give up.
I love you.
that you have given me. I don't get back to all of you the way I should. And I don't understand why you are still here.
But, I am so, so grateful that you are.
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