Tom needed to go. It was a Sunday morning when he was responsible for picking out songs for the Worship Team and on those Sundays, he needs to be at church a half of an hour before the rest of us. Typically, he handles writing a check for our offering (which is interesting, because it is the only check he writes). On this morning, he was running late, so I told him I would take care of bringing the offering.
I looked back in the check register to see how much the previous weeks offering check was for, that way I could be consistent. I found the entry and thought, huh, that seems like more than normal. I looked back one more week and again thought, huh...... This amount went back for a month of Sundays (no pun intended). I decided to take the checkbook to church with me, that way I could make sure I was giving the "right" amount. I sat down next to my husband and quietly asked him if he realized that for the last 4 weeks he had given more than double what we normally tithe. He looked at me, almost disgusted and said "I give what we can afford, yes, I know what I have written the checks out for"......I was convicted. I had implied that he gave away too much of "our" money; I was ashamed of myself. Not only is Tom generous, but when he gives, he is very purposeful and thoughtful in designating where/how he wants our offerings allocated.
Flash forward to this past Sunday. Another crazy Sunday morning when I was, with a slightly raised voice, asking my children to kick it in gear, get their shoes on, grab what they need and finish that last drop of beverage in their cups. Luke, who is my consummate dawdler, ran upstairs. This is one of his infamous moves, "Luke, are you ready?" to which he replies "yes" and then a minute later has realized that he doesn't have what he wants and then must run upstairs to retrieve it.....ugh, I find this so frustrating. Anyway, this is what he did. My response was to remind him, loudly, that he should have had everything ready. I asked him what he was getting......"my wallet". What? Why do you need your wallet? We are just going to church, their is nothing there to buy....said very sarcastically. Silence from Luke, then "mom, I know, I want to take my own money to give toward the children's offering".....Another mommy fail for me....Tucking my tail I told him that was great.
Putting his wallet in his pocket, Tom asked him how much he planned to give. Luke said "two dollars dad". Tom then asked him how much he had. Luke said he had ten dollars. My husband then explained that 10% , or one dollar would be a generous donation and that he did not have to give two dollars. Luke thought about it and said "thanks dad, but I am still going to give two dollars".
During the offering portion of our service, the children go to the front and put their money in a big jar. That money goes toward humanitarian projects. One year it went toward a clean water project, one year it purchased live stock for a family, you get the idea. Luke proudly got his two dollars out and walked that money to the front. He returned to his seat, leaned against me and just smiled. He had just experienced the joy of giving from the heart. Not out of obligation, or because it was required, but out of a desire to be generous with what he had....He was his father.
My eight year old has renewed my spirit on the gift of giving and I give his father the credit for that. Being mentored by your child is a humbling, yet proud experience.
...Meanwhile on the other side of me sat my daughter who returned to her seat with some of her money still in hand....Um, why didn't you put that money in the jar Cora? ..."mommy, it is so shiny, I just wanted to keep the shiny ones, I put all the others in"..... One child at a time I guess.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Memories on a mower
My husband takes care of the mowing at our house. Not because I don't want to or because I don't know how. It is just something he does. But this mowing season has crept up on us (him) and between lack of time and uncooperative weather, our acre of land was knee deep with dandelion. Our neighbors pretended they didn't mind. It was time for me to help, time for Tom to trust me not to run over rocks and show me how to use this mower.
Friday morning was perfect. So, being self employed I declared the day off from office work and hopped on the mower. Well, first I had to listen to a tutorial on how to operate the mower and then I was off and mowing...."yes, I'm sure I understand, I got this, go get your work done..."
As I mowed I started thinking of my youth and all the time I spent mowing in the summer. My brother and I mowed 13 of the 20 acres we lived on...it was a project...that never ended! As I thought of my youth I thought of the man that taught me how to mow (and so many other things), my dad. He has been gone for 4 1/2 years, but he lives in my memories. And on this warm day in may, some of his lessons were flooding my mind.
My mowing memories included my dads need for me to be mechanical. If I was even remotely mechanical, I would have a skill that would aid in my independence. To his credit, I am moderately mechanical. I can figure out how to operate equipment, tools and yes even mowers. I have helped friends change flat tires in the pitch dark and used jumper cables to start dead cars.
He taught me that there is a time to get dirty and a time to be "pretty". He taught me how to work hard and that being a "girl" didn't excuse you from it. He told me I was beautiful and made me realize that I didn't need a man to complete me. He told me I was a prize and should be treasured and followed that up with date nights to show me how I deserve to be treated. He treated my mom like his queen, teaching me that words should correlate with actions. He praised me when I succeeded and then challenged me to reach even higher. He made me a confident woman. He insisted on meeting every man who wanted to date me and let those men know my importance to him. He taught me how to dance by first standing on the tops of his feet.....he bragged to people about me whether they wanted to hear it or not.
When first married, my car broke down on the way to work one morning. Instinctively, I called my dad...he told me to call my husband: )...he taught me how to let go and move forward in life.
Remembering these lessons reminds me of the things I need to be teaching my children and makes me grateful for the parent my dad was to me. ....it's time for my kids to learn how to mow.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Holiday Hangover
The day after Christmas my mom would get the itch to start putting away the Christmas decorations. I never understood what the rush was. We had spent so much time (most years) getting everything Christmas related out of the attic only to be so ready to clean it up and drag it back up there......
Flash forward - I get it! The day after Christmas this year I found myself collecting and putting away the misc. Christmas decorations that were strewn throughout our house. In fact, I boxed up a bunch of said decorations and dropped them off at the local thrift store. I was over it. We love the baby Jesus, but it was time for him to go back in his box (I mean no disrespect).
Christmas is great, I am the first to admit that I love the Christmas holiday. I am confident that I get it honestly as my parents loved the holiday too. Cora said to me early in the season that Christmas time gives her a feeling of butterflies in her stomach...yes, that is how I used to feel too. She told me she was so excited she could hardly stand it....yes, that is how I used to feel too. (I still enjoy watered down versions of these feelings) But, after many weeks of preparation followed by 2 children and 1 husband off of school and work for a week and a half, I am over the structureless, party-filled, sleeping in, never getting out of our pajama days. I had/have a holiday hangover.
Two days after Christmas, everything in our house became fair game; I was collecting, boxing and giving away. Closets were being cleaned, kids rooms were thinned, kitchen cupboards were de-cluttered, clothes were given away....my kids are lucky they made the cut.
Our Christmas Tree still stands, but it's days are limited. It will be de-decorated in the next day or two.
Christmas break reminds me that yes Virginia, I am a type A personality. I am structured and organized and I like a schedule.
And with that schedule I vow to return to my commitment to journal through blogging - Thank you Emily Stott Patterson for reminding me. I am back in the game : )
Happy New Year!
Flash forward - I get it! The day after Christmas this year I found myself collecting and putting away the misc. Christmas decorations that were strewn throughout our house. In fact, I boxed up a bunch of said decorations and dropped them off at the local thrift store. I was over it. We love the baby Jesus, but it was time for him to go back in his box (I mean no disrespect).
Christmas is great, I am the first to admit that I love the Christmas holiday. I am confident that I get it honestly as my parents loved the holiday too. Cora said to me early in the season that Christmas time gives her a feeling of butterflies in her stomach...yes, that is how I used to feel too. She told me she was so excited she could hardly stand it....yes, that is how I used to feel too. (I still enjoy watered down versions of these feelings) But, after many weeks of preparation followed by 2 children and 1 husband off of school and work for a week and a half, I am over the structureless, party-filled, sleeping in, never getting out of our pajama days. I had/have a holiday hangover.
Two days after Christmas, everything in our house became fair game; I was collecting, boxing and giving away. Closets were being cleaned, kids rooms were thinned, kitchen cupboards were de-cluttered, clothes were given away....my kids are lucky they made the cut.
Our Christmas Tree still stands, but it's days are limited. It will be de-decorated in the next day or two.
Christmas break reminds me that yes Virginia, I am a type A personality. I am structured and organized and I like a schedule.
And with that schedule I vow to return to my commitment to journal through blogging - Thank you Emily Stott Patterson for reminding me. I am back in the game : )
Happy New Year!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Is it Well?
His message was titled "still standing". Huh, "still standing"; I was curious.
He spoke with a thick German accent and yet I had no trouble understanding him. He was funny! I mean, the kind of funny you normally don't see from someone who is preaching on a Sunday morning.
He then got into why he was "still standing".... he and his wife had lost one of their sons (I am unsure of how long ago; possibly a couple of years) in what he referred to as a tragic accident. His son was only weeks from graduating from high school and going on to college to become a physical therapists. His son, Micah, was not killed immediately and in fact lived for 36 hours following the accident. He spoke of how, if ever God was going to save someone, he felt strongly Micah was the guy - After all, hundreds of people were praying for a miracle for Micah (and possibly thousands because of FB). He was sure that Micah would be an amazing example of the power of God....But that was not to be.
His story was moving as he spoke of anger, sadness, mourning. He was relatable and brought many to tears as he told his (and his family's) story of loss.
I was doing a really good job of holding back my tears. I could identify with so many things that he spoke of. He would speak of his emotions as he dealt with and continues to deal with the loss, and inside I was like, I get you!
It was one statement in particular that I just latched onto and felt extremely connected with...He said that after some time had passed following his sons death, he was in a place in life that was like (in his words) being on a "ice plate" floating in the water. He said that Micah's death made him question so many things including at times question his faith. And, often, he felt unsure of what to do next or where to go or how they as a family should proceed. The hurt was great. And what he realized was that he couldn't go back, that is, he couldn't deny his faith, because he had come to far to do that. He knew he had faith and he knew that he believed that God loved him and that he was in control....and yet, he couldn't go forward. His faith was broken enough and he had lost enough trust in God's control that he couldn't go forward. So here he was floating on this "ice plate" Too much faith to deny God and not enough faith to move forward on his own. (This is not the end of his story, but this is where I will stop)
His testimony was amazing - He spoke to me
We had music following his message - many were teary, but I was still holding it together.....and then, there it was...I knew the chords as soon as I heard them -- I was trying so hard to hold it together....but it happened - THE SONG!
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Oh, the tears ... My little Cora looked up at me and said "mommy, why are you crying?" I couldn't answer her (for fear of doing that ugly cry).....She then wrapped her arms around me and comforted me like only a 6 year old can do.
You see, this was the song -- The song my dad had us end my Mom's memorial service with (almost 10 years ago) and the song we (my brother and I) chose to end my Dad's memorial service with (4 years ago).
I would sing (or at least try to) and think to myself "is it well with my soul?"
There were so many times during my mom's battle with cancer (she was only 54) that I (we) questioned (silently; because when someone is fighting cancer, those around them tend to be constant cheerleaders) why she was not being healed - and then there were times when I was at total peace---on an "ice plate"
Then, there was the death of my dad (he was 61). His life had become very complicated (due to the great grief of losing my mom) and thus his death left me (us) with many, many loose ends (including a soon to be, mentally ill ex-spouse- enough said). I circled through the anger, grief, peace cycle many times. -- on an "ice plate".
I have learned (or come to realize) that questioning who we are, where our faith lies, is normal. And, just because we are questioning, doesn't mean we have lost our faith all together.
I would imagine that tragedy turns many from what they know - I feel grateful that through my trials, my questioning has only reassured me that one of the constant things I have is my faith.
So, "is it well, with my soul?" .... most days it is.
He spoke with a thick German accent and yet I had no trouble understanding him. He was funny! I mean, the kind of funny you normally don't see from someone who is preaching on a Sunday morning.
He then got into why he was "still standing".... he and his wife had lost one of their sons (I am unsure of how long ago; possibly a couple of years) in what he referred to as a tragic accident. His son was only weeks from graduating from high school and going on to college to become a physical therapists. His son, Micah, was not killed immediately and in fact lived for 36 hours following the accident. He spoke of how, if ever God was going to save someone, he felt strongly Micah was the guy - After all, hundreds of people were praying for a miracle for Micah (and possibly thousands because of FB). He was sure that Micah would be an amazing example of the power of God....But that was not to be.
His story was moving as he spoke of anger, sadness, mourning. He was relatable and brought many to tears as he told his (and his family's) story of loss.
I was doing a really good job of holding back my tears. I could identify with so many things that he spoke of. He would speak of his emotions as he dealt with and continues to deal with the loss, and inside I was like, I get you!
It was one statement in particular that I just latched onto and felt extremely connected with...He said that after some time had passed following his sons death, he was in a place in life that was like (in his words) being on a "ice plate" floating in the water. He said that Micah's death made him question so many things including at times question his faith. And, often, he felt unsure of what to do next or where to go or how they as a family should proceed. The hurt was great. And what he realized was that he couldn't go back, that is, he couldn't deny his faith, because he had come to far to do that. He knew he had faith and he knew that he believed that God loved him and that he was in control....and yet, he couldn't go forward. His faith was broken enough and he had lost enough trust in God's control that he couldn't go forward. So here he was floating on this "ice plate" Too much faith to deny God and not enough faith to move forward on his own. (This is not the end of his story, but this is where I will stop)
His testimony was amazing - He spoke to me
We had music following his message - many were teary, but I was still holding it together.....and then, there it was...I knew the chords as soon as I heard them -- I was trying so hard to hold it together....but it happened - THE SONG!
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Oh, the tears ... My little Cora looked up at me and said "mommy, why are you crying?" I couldn't answer her (for fear of doing that ugly cry).....She then wrapped her arms around me and comforted me like only a 6 year old can do.
You see, this was the song -- The song my dad had us end my Mom's memorial service with (almost 10 years ago) and the song we (my brother and I) chose to end my Dad's memorial service with (4 years ago).
I would sing (or at least try to) and think to myself "is it well with my soul?"
There were so many times during my mom's battle with cancer (she was only 54) that I (we) questioned (silently; because when someone is fighting cancer, those around them tend to be constant cheerleaders) why she was not being healed - and then there were times when I was at total peace---on an "ice plate"
Then, there was the death of my dad (he was 61). His life had become very complicated (due to the great grief of losing my mom) and thus his death left me (us) with many, many loose ends (including a soon to be, mentally ill ex-spouse- enough said). I circled through the anger, grief, peace cycle many times. -- on an "ice plate".
I have learned (or come to realize) that questioning who we are, where our faith lies, is normal. And, just because we are questioning, doesn't mean we have lost our faith all together.
I would imagine that tragedy turns many from what they know - I feel grateful that through my trials, my questioning has only reassured me that one of the constant things I have is my faith.
So, "is it well, with my soul?" .... most days it is.
Monday, October 15, 2012
It's Hot
Some lessons are best learned through first hand experience....as much as I would like that not to be true.
This past Saturday was beautiful; sunny, cool and clear. I was loving it. I was also off for the morning to get my hair done- YAY!
Tom and the kids were hanging at the house - Saturday is daddy's day to make breakfast because he apparently does a better job than I do (he also allows the kids to eat just breakfast meat if they so desire; hey, whatever) so my absence was not straining the routine by any means.
When I left the house at 8:30 am, all was well. The kids were just getting out of bed and Tom was...not sure, but he was home. As I proceded out the door, Luke ran after me and asked that I stop at Lowes on the way home and get orange paint for the shelf he wanted to paint and put in his room. No problem, I can do that.
Feeling like a new woman, I left the hairdresser. As I drove down the highway, I remembered that I told Luke I would stop and get him paint. I quick swung into Lowes to get paint. ...Side note; I was reminded why I do not shop at stores like that, especially on a Saturday - Motherly Love was in full affect as I battled the people and lines.
OK, homeward bound. I pull in the driveway and see my husband burning leaves, etc. in the side yard (yes, we still live in an area where you can do that). I am not going to lie, my first thought was, "if I walk in this house and find these kids in their PJ's watching TV, I am going to be annoyed", but I held my tongue until I checked out the situation. I walked in the house and called for both kids and no one answered, "Oh, good, they must be outside somewhere".
I poked around the kitchen and thought Tom did a pretty good job cleaning up from his breakfast feast. As I turned to set the paint down, I noticed Tom go running across the back yard; then I noticed Luke at the windows by the dinning room frantically trying to unwind the hose and yelling back to his dad that he was going as fast as he could. I then saw Cora charging for the house. Tom was again yelling at Luke to turn the water on full blast....Luke was trying, but I could see that he was scared and getting frustrated. Luke grabbed the coil of hose and started dragging it across the back yard......
I ran out the back door and ran into Cora who said "mom, all we did was start sticks on fire to make torches and then we stuck them in the ground; we were trying to make a row of burning torches" What?
I yelled out to Tom "what is going on?" as I ran over to Luke and helped him hustle with the hose -- Then I saw it, the edge of our woods was smoldering....
Tom was busy putting out the fire, so I asked Luke what happened. Luke said that he and Cora (and Cora added "it was Luke's idea) were taking sticks, placing them in the fire and then sticking them in the ground, in a row, like torches. Before they knew it, the wind had knocked them down and the edge of the woods was on fire - It scared the you know what out of both of them!
Tom got the fire put out and then proceeded to lecture Luke about the situation. You see, this is not the first time the kids, especially Luke, has "played" with fire. These kids (like many) are drawn to fire like a moth to the flame. Countless times (at bonfires, burning in our own fire pit, etc.) we have told both the kids, but particularly Luke, to stop playing with the fire (burning sticks, swinging sticks around, throwing items in the fire to see if they will burn). It went in one ear and out the other....exhausting.
This time was different. I could see it in Luke's eyes. He was scared and he understood (I think for the first time) why we had asked him all those other times not to play with the fire(s). The speed at which this situation was out of his control scared him. It was an ah ha moment for my 8 year old.
Tom "cooled" down so to speak and went behind the shop to tend to his fire (he had two going at one time; no comment from the mom) and Luke looked at me and said "mom, you can take away anything you want, I can't believe that I did that, that was dumb- you guys are always telling me not to play with fire - I should have listened" I could tell that this little boy had just learned an important life lesson. Luke then went back to where Tom was and on his own apologized to his dad and said he would never do something like that again. Tom forgave him and then said no DS for a week to which Luke said a simple "OK" - In that moment I was confident that Luke would not play with fire again.
While my preference as a mom would be to have my children listen so they don't have to experience the consequences of not listening, the ah ha moment for me was, yes, even through adulthood, there is something very powerful about experiencing firsthand (good or bad) as opposed to just being told to or not to do something. The power of experiences! ....so thankful this time it did not result in our woods totally catching on fire!
Somehow that request for orange paint seems very symbolic now.
This past Saturday was beautiful; sunny, cool and clear. I was loving it. I was also off for the morning to get my hair done- YAY!
Tom and the kids were hanging at the house - Saturday is daddy's day to make breakfast because he apparently does a better job than I do (he also allows the kids to eat just breakfast meat if they so desire; hey, whatever) so my absence was not straining the routine by any means.
When I left the house at 8:30 am, all was well. The kids were just getting out of bed and Tom was...not sure, but he was home. As I proceded out the door, Luke ran after me and asked that I stop at Lowes on the way home and get orange paint for the shelf he wanted to paint and put in his room. No problem, I can do that.
Feeling like a new woman, I left the hairdresser. As I drove down the highway, I remembered that I told Luke I would stop and get him paint. I quick swung into Lowes to get paint. ...Side note; I was reminded why I do not shop at stores like that, especially on a Saturday - Motherly Love was in full affect as I battled the people and lines.
OK, homeward bound. I pull in the driveway and see my husband burning leaves, etc. in the side yard (yes, we still live in an area where you can do that). I am not going to lie, my first thought was, "if I walk in this house and find these kids in their PJ's watching TV, I am going to be annoyed", but I held my tongue until I checked out the situation. I walked in the house and called for both kids and no one answered, "Oh, good, they must be outside somewhere".
I poked around the kitchen and thought Tom did a pretty good job cleaning up from his breakfast feast. As I turned to set the paint down, I noticed Tom go running across the back yard; then I noticed Luke at the windows by the dinning room frantically trying to unwind the hose and yelling back to his dad that he was going as fast as he could. I then saw Cora charging for the house. Tom was again yelling at Luke to turn the water on full blast....Luke was trying, but I could see that he was scared and getting frustrated. Luke grabbed the coil of hose and started dragging it across the back yard......
I ran out the back door and ran into Cora who said "mom, all we did was start sticks on fire to make torches and then we stuck them in the ground; we were trying to make a row of burning torches" What?
I yelled out to Tom "what is going on?" as I ran over to Luke and helped him hustle with the hose -- Then I saw it, the edge of our woods was smoldering....
Tom was busy putting out the fire, so I asked Luke what happened. Luke said that he and Cora (and Cora added "it was Luke's idea) were taking sticks, placing them in the fire and then sticking them in the ground, in a row, like torches. Before they knew it, the wind had knocked them down and the edge of the woods was on fire - It scared the you know what out of both of them!
Tom got the fire put out and then proceeded to lecture Luke about the situation. You see, this is not the first time the kids, especially Luke, has "played" with fire. These kids (like many) are drawn to fire like a moth to the flame. Countless times (at bonfires, burning in our own fire pit, etc.) we have told both the kids, but particularly Luke, to stop playing with the fire (burning sticks, swinging sticks around, throwing items in the fire to see if they will burn). It went in one ear and out the other....exhausting.
This time was different. I could see it in Luke's eyes. He was scared and he understood (I think for the first time) why we had asked him all those other times not to play with the fire(s). The speed at which this situation was out of his control scared him. It was an ah ha moment for my 8 year old.
Tom "cooled" down so to speak and went behind the shop to tend to his fire (he had two going at one time; no comment from the mom) and Luke looked at me and said "mom, you can take away anything you want, I can't believe that I did that, that was dumb- you guys are always telling me not to play with fire - I should have listened" I could tell that this little boy had just learned an important life lesson. Luke then went back to where Tom was and on his own apologized to his dad and said he would never do something like that again. Tom forgave him and then said no DS for a week to which Luke said a simple "OK" - In that moment I was confident that Luke would not play with fire again.
While my preference as a mom would be to have my children listen so they don't have to experience the consequences of not listening, the ah ha moment for me was, yes, even through adulthood, there is something very powerful about experiencing firsthand (good or bad) as opposed to just being told to or not to do something. The power of experiences! ....so thankful this time it did not result in our woods totally catching on fire!
Somehow that request for orange paint seems very symbolic now.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
I'm No Joke...
"FYI; Mom is no Joke!".... these were my words to my daughter this morning.
"Cora, do you want to put earrings in this morning?".....nothing....Repeat....nothing....stomp into the living to see my daughter playing on her father's Ipad: "Cora, FYI: Mom is no Joke"; "When I speak to you, what are you supposed to do" ..."Listen?", "Well yes, that too, but you are suppose to ANSWER ME"...."Is what you are doing so important that you can't answer me?"....stomp away.
Overheard- "Lukey, Newsflash - Mom is no joke" Awesome, so glad you got that part (sarcasm).
"Now, Cora, do you want to put earrings in this morning"....nothing.... Seriously, I may just pop a cork here this morning.
I marched back into the living room and informed my daughter that she was now done with the Ipad due to disobedience (this is becoming a theme of my life - disobedient children). Luke, taking full advantage of the situation says "hey mom, since Cora can't play the Ipad, can I?" "Sure Luke, have at it...."
The crying was so loud - so out of control - So unnecessary! "When you are done throwing a fit about your choice to blatantly disobey me, you let me know; and in the meantime, get your shoes on because the bus will be here soon"
Wow, this parenting stuff is a great time. Why do so many things have to be a challenge?
This morning followed an evening of lecturing my son (for at least 30 minutes) on the need to obey the rules, listen, participate and complete tasks even when we don't understand the importance of them or think they are unnecessary. "It is not OK to "buck" the system just because you can"...I think I am still "horse" from that conversation.
I am realizing that these little things that my kids do are small ways that they control situations. Not responding, not doing what is asked of them, bucking the system just because. My kids (and probably lots of others) like to be in control (or at least have the appearance of being in control).
Sharing my plight with the Body Flex class I teach, one person said to me (jokingly) "I wonder who they take after"... She thought she was being funny, but deep down, I knew, they take after ME!
At some level, I enjoy being in control. And, that being said, strange things make me feel out of control.
This morning, in the midst of my stellar parenting, I was emptying the dishwasher. During this process, I had containers on the counter from the cupboard (because I needed to put the clean ones in the proper stacks) and I was making a lunch for Luke and cleaning up from breakfast.
At one point I looked around me and there was nothing but clutter -- Dirty dishes to go in the dishwasher, clean dishes to be put away and containers all over the counter (so they would be put away properly)...I felt a wave of panic come over me... AHHH. This clutter made me feel so out of control.
I quickly worked at getting the dishwasher unloaded, getting those stinkin containers put away and getting those dirty dishes into the dishwasher....I grabbed a rag, wiped up the island where the kids had been sitting and just like that, I was back in business, I could think again -- Control of Cleanliness to my rescue!
Now, back to getting these kids out the door....including earrings for the little one.
You might not think so based on my OCD mannerisms, but I have come a long way (at least I think I have). I have learned the hard way that life is one big lesson in not being in control. And in that lesson I have also learned that how you deal with being out of control says a lot about you as a person.....and sometimes you have to have moments of feeling in control to handle all the times you really aren't.
I get it Luke and Cora - Mommy knows what it is like to feel the need to be in control. So, you have your moments of "controlling", but know that I am still your mother and I am "no joke".
"Cora, do you want to put earrings in this morning?".....nothing....Repeat....nothing....stomp into the living to see my daughter playing on her father's Ipad: "Cora, FYI: Mom is no Joke"; "When I speak to you, what are you supposed to do" ..."Listen?", "Well yes, that too, but you are suppose to ANSWER ME"...."Is what you are doing so important that you can't answer me?"....stomp away.
Overheard- "Lukey, Newsflash - Mom is no joke" Awesome, so glad you got that part (sarcasm).
"Now, Cora, do you want to put earrings in this morning"....nothing.... Seriously, I may just pop a cork here this morning.
I marched back into the living room and informed my daughter that she was now done with the Ipad due to disobedience (this is becoming a theme of my life - disobedient children). Luke, taking full advantage of the situation says "hey mom, since Cora can't play the Ipad, can I?" "Sure Luke, have at it...."
The crying was so loud - so out of control - So unnecessary! "When you are done throwing a fit about your choice to blatantly disobey me, you let me know; and in the meantime, get your shoes on because the bus will be here soon"
Wow, this parenting stuff is a great time. Why do so many things have to be a challenge?
This morning followed an evening of lecturing my son (for at least 30 minutes) on the need to obey the rules, listen, participate and complete tasks even when we don't understand the importance of them or think they are unnecessary. "It is not OK to "buck" the system just because you can"...I think I am still "horse" from that conversation.
I am realizing that these little things that my kids do are small ways that they control situations. Not responding, not doing what is asked of them, bucking the system just because. My kids (and probably lots of others) like to be in control (or at least have the appearance of being in control).
Sharing my plight with the Body Flex class I teach, one person said to me (jokingly) "I wonder who they take after"... She thought she was being funny, but deep down, I knew, they take after ME!
At some level, I enjoy being in control. And, that being said, strange things make me feel out of control.
This morning, in the midst of my stellar parenting, I was emptying the dishwasher. During this process, I had containers on the counter from the cupboard (because I needed to put the clean ones in the proper stacks) and I was making a lunch for Luke and cleaning up from breakfast.
At one point I looked around me and there was nothing but clutter -- Dirty dishes to go in the dishwasher, clean dishes to be put away and containers all over the counter (so they would be put away properly)...I felt a wave of panic come over me... AHHH. This clutter made me feel so out of control.
I quickly worked at getting the dishwasher unloaded, getting those stinkin containers put away and getting those dirty dishes into the dishwasher....I grabbed a rag, wiped up the island where the kids had been sitting and just like that, I was back in business, I could think again -- Control of Cleanliness to my rescue!
Now, back to getting these kids out the door....including earrings for the little one.
You might not think so based on my OCD mannerisms, but I have come a long way (at least I think I have). I have learned the hard way that life is one big lesson in not being in control. And in that lesson I have also learned that how you deal with being out of control says a lot about you as a person.....and sometimes you have to have moments of feeling in control to handle all the times you really aren't.
I get it Luke and Cora - Mommy knows what it is like to feel the need to be in control. So, you have your moments of "controlling", but know that I am still your mother and I am "no joke".
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Fair night! The kids were so excited. Each riding on their own floats. Luke on his grandfather's stage coach, Cora on her dance float. It was like date night for Tom and I. We hit the food stands like it was our job...French fries, tacos, gyro.....
As we stood in the crowd taking alternating bites from the gyro we were sharing we realized that Luke's float was coming--oh come on I thought! The parade Marshall said it would be at least two hours and here they were rounding the corner already....40 minutes in. Well, date night over, commence parenting mode. It would only be a matter of time until we saw Cora's float as well.
Both kids collected we now stood with family and friends watching the parade. The kids were practically attacking the people that passed by handing out candy. I looked around and realized they weren't the only ones exhibiting such behavior so game on...with in reason of course.
The line of reason was eventually crossed which resulted in Luke being disciplined by Tom, including having to sit with us for a bit. It was during this time out that I overheard a teenage boy, maybe 14, tell his dad that we seemed like strict parents...that we were being hard on our son....I said nothing, not even to Tom, but inside I was like " what do you know?" "how many eight year olds have you raised?"
The parade ended, we walked (and walked) back to our car, got home, showered kids and had them in bed by 10:30, all with no yelling.
Today I worked at yet another batch of pepper jam. I neatly lined up all my supplies, measured everything out, prepped my area and lined up my jars. I was ready. As I worked with anal precision, the parade events played in my mind. Well, mostly the words of that know it all kid.
I don't think I am "strict"- I think I am a pretty cool mom; I just have expectations of my kids, especially in public. ....Why were this kids comments bothering me?
I started cleaning up my project and just like that it hit me.... I like square containers; you know, containers that you can stack and organize in the fridge. My least favorite containers are the ones that are shaped strangely and take up extra space....I like things square and organized ....oh my word, maybe I am a strict mom! Does my love of square containers speak into my parenting style. Do I expect my kids to be "square and organized" (so to speak)?
So, here's to you young teenage know it all...you have me thinking....
This much I do know- I will not apologize for demanding my children be polite and respectful, which
includes mauling a parade participant...but maybe there are some things I can review and work on.
I am a mom under constant construction.
As we stood in the crowd taking alternating bites from the gyro we were sharing we realized that Luke's float was coming--oh come on I thought! The parade Marshall said it would be at least two hours and here they were rounding the corner already....40 minutes in. Well, date night over, commence parenting mode. It would only be a matter of time until we saw Cora's float as well.
Both kids collected we now stood with family and friends watching the parade. The kids were practically attacking the people that passed by handing out candy. I looked around and realized they weren't the only ones exhibiting such behavior so game on...with in reason of course.
The line of reason was eventually crossed which resulted in Luke being disciplined by Tom, including having to sit with us for a bit. It was during this time out that I overheard a teenage boy, maybe 14, tell his dad that we seemed like strict parents...that we were being hard on our son....I said nothing, not even to Tom, but inside I was like " what do you know?" "how many eight year olds have you raised?"
The parade ended, we walked (and walked) back to our car, got home, showered kids and had them in bed by 10:30, all with no yelling.
Today I worked at yet another batch of pepper jam. I neatly lined up all my supplies, measured everything out, prepped my area and lined up my jars. I was ready. As I worked with anal precision, the parade events played in my mind. Well, mostly the words of that know it all kid.
I don't think I am "strict"- I think I am a pretty cool mom; I just have expectations of my kids, especially in public. ....Why were this kids comments bothering me?
I started cleaning up my project and just like that it hit me.... I like square containers; you know, containers that you can stack and organize in the fridge. My least favorite containers are the ones that are shaped strangely and take up extra space....I like things square and organized ....oh my word, maybe I am a strict mom! Does my love of square containers speak into my parenting style. Do I expect my kids to be "square and organized" (so to speak)?
So, here's to you young teenage know it all...you have me thinking....
This much I do know- I will not apologize for demanding my children be polite and respectful, which
includes mauling a parade participant...but maybe there are some things I can review and work on.
I am a mom under constant construction.
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