A prayer offered by my oldest son tonight:
Dear God,
I hope that you are having a good day.
I love you.
I wish that I could play with you every day.
I was thinking of you at supper.
In your name we pray,
Amen.
Amen to that.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
How Do You Like Them Apples?
It's day 9 of my 30 Days of Nothing--well, almost nothing. Okay, it's been 30 Days of Slightly-Less-Than-Usual. Here are my shortcomings thus far:
1. Ei finally decided to start pooping in the potty. We had promised he could pick what we had for dinner on the day of his first success. He was successful September 2, and he chose McDonald's. Hmmm... We couldn't go back on our promise, so we went. I packed myself a PB&J sandwich, not wanting to break my 30 Days on day 2. The kids didn't seem to notice my meal. They were too wrapped up in chicken sandwiches, apple slices, and Star Wars Happy Meal toys. But aren't we excited that he is making progress?! He is about 50-50 now in terms of successes and--ahem--accidents, and that's great news to me.
2. I made a "quick" trip into McKay's (the used bookstore where I could spend hundreds of dollars without batting an eye) the other day to pick up a couple of books for my exorbitantly long reading list this semester. Since I was child-free (which almost never happens) I decided to poke around a bit to see all the little nooks and crannies I miss when the boys are with me. I found the homeschooling section. I spent $25 on curriculum for my kids in addition to the books I bought for myself (which I do not count as a failure because those are required).
3. Saturday was Ei's birthday. We always go out to eat at the birthday boy's restaurant of choice, so I didn't feel right about telling him he couldn't share in this tradition. He chose Gondolier. I ate a Spinach and Feta calzone and shared the most decadent cake with my family for desert. It was so sinfully good. I should have packed a sandwich, but feta and chocolate are two of my weaknesses.
4. After Jackson's cello lesson we always get a milkshake or Icee or something fun, just the two of us. This is the only time I ever have with just Jackson, and I cherish our Tuesday afternoons. As we were leaving his lesson today he asked if we were going to get a treat. I caved. We bought a $2.50 smoothie. He was so happy.
As I write this I realize that after each goof I feel obligated to explain why I fell off the 30 Days plan. It all boils down to entitlement. I feel entitled to a calzone and cake to celebrate my child's birthday. I feel my child is entitled to a smoothie after he stretches his comfort zone at cello lessons. Mary wrote a great essay about entitlement HERE. And it's so true.
The weekend before I began this challenge, a lady I work with gave me a big box of cooking apples. She said that she couldn't use them all before they went bad and I should take them to prepare for my family. I decided that this was a good opportunity to practice being grateful and using what is given to me, so I set out to make the best use possible of the apples. I made Apple Brown Betty, Apple Crisp, Applesauce baby food, and Rosemary Apple Chicken. I used most of the apples before they finally started to go soft and I threw the rest out. I peeled so many apples that my fingernails turned red from the natural dye. This was kind of fun for the first 5 apples or so. Then I grew weary of the task. I started looking for shortcuts. Maybe I could just partially peel the apples. There are a lot of nutrients in the skin, right? Or I could only use the big apples so I wouldn't have to peel as many. You know what I need? I need one of those apple peeler-corer-slicer deals from The Pampered Chef. Oh, yeah. That would speed up this job. If I'm going to do with nothing, I want to do it with an expensive piece of cooking equipment that I will use only once in my life but feel good about owning because I am the pampered chef. Entitlement. It's a tricky beast.
1. Ei finally decided to start pooping in the potty. We had promised he could pick what we had for dinner on the day of his first success. He was successful September 2, and he chose McDonald's. Hmmm... We couldn't go back on our promise, so we went. I packed myself a PB&J sandwich, not wanting to break my 30 Days on day 2. The kids didn't seem to notice my meal. They were too wrapped up in chicken sandwiches, apple slices, and Star Wars Happy Meal toys. But aren't we excited that he is making progress?! He is about 50-50 now in terms of successes and--ahem--accidents, and that's great news to me.
2. I made a "quick" trip into McKay's (the used bookstore where I could spend hundreds of dollars without batting an eye) the other day to pick up a couple of books for my exorbitantly long reading list this semester. Since I was child-free (which almost never happens) I decided to poke around a bit to see all the little nooks and crannies I miss when the boys are with me. I found the homeschooling section. I spent $25 on curriculum for my kids in addition to the books I bought for myself (which I do not count as a failure because those are required).
3. Saturday was Ei's birthday. We always go out to eat at the birthday boy's restaurant of choice, so I didn't feel right about telling him he couldn't share in this tradition. He chose Gondolier. I ate a Spinach and Feta calzone and shared the most decadent cake with my family for desert. It was so sinfully good. I should have packed a sandwich, but feta and chocolate are two of my weaknesses.
4. After Jackson's cello lesson we always get a milkshake or Icee or something fun, just the two of us. This is the only time I ever have with just Jackson, and I cherish our Tuesday afternoons. As we were leaving his lesson today he asked if we were going to get a treat. I caved. We bought a $2.50 smoothie. He was so happy.
As I write this I realize that after each goof I feel obligated to explain why I fell off the 30 Days plan. It all boils down to entitlement. I feel entitled to a calzone and cake to celebrate my child's birthday. I feel my child is entitled to a smoothie after he stretches his comfort zone at cello lessons. Mary wrote a great essay about entitlement HERE. And it's so true.
The weekend before I began this challenge, a lady I work with gave me a big box of cooking apples. She said that she couldn't use them all before they went bad and I should take them to prepare for my family. I decided that this was a good opportunity to practice being grateful and using what is given to me, so I set out to make the best use possible of the apples. I made Apple Brown Betty, Apple Crisp, Applesauce baby food, and Rosemary Apple Chicken. I used most of the apples before they finally started to go soft and I threw the rest out. I peeled so many apples that my fingernails turned red from the natural dye. This was kind of fun for the first 5 apples or so. Then I grew weary of the task. I started looking for shortcuts. Maybe I could just partially peel the apples. There are a lot of nutrients in the skin, right? Or I could only use the big apples so I wouldn't have to peel as many. You know what I need? I need one of those apple peeler-corer-slicer deals from The Pampered Chef. Oh, yeah. That would speed up this job. If I'm going to do with nothing, I want to do it with an expensive piece of cooking equipment that I will use only once in my life but feel good about owning because I am the pampered chef. Entitlement. It's a tricky beast.
Monday, September 8, 2008
E-I-E-I-O
When Ei was born, Jackson was 13 months old. Obviously he didn't have a huge vocabulary at that age. I kept showing him the baby and saying "Ethan, his name is Ethan," and Jackson would reply, "E-i-e-i-o." And it stuck. 3 years later, he's still our Ei.Saturday Ei turned 3. It's amazing how quickly time goes by when you're in love. As I did with Jackson, I will share some of the things I love about Ei, in no particular order.
He can talk to anyone, anywhere, about anything. But he can also be quite shy.
He makes baby Aaron laugh every time he plays with him.
He knows the name of every single Bob the Builder car, all the tools in Handy Manny, and has memorized his favorite picture books. But he can't seem to remember where his shoes go.
He can talk for a full 5 minutes without ever saying anything.
He still loves to sit in my lap.
His smile lights up my whole day.
He says he's sorry when he makes a mistake--and means it.
He occasionally says he wants to talk to me, but he doesn't even have anything to talk about. He just wants to talk to his Mama.
He has an imaginary friend named Ranch. He's always got a story about her.
He loves our dog and is very gentle with her.
After Communion he whispers (too loudly), "I want more!"
He gives slobbery kisses freely and often.
He can turn a boring task into a game.
He has two speeds: on and off. He's either loud and moving around or asleep. There is nothing in between.
He always has a song in his head.
He wants everyone else to be as happy as he is.
He never stays in trouble (although he's always getting into trouble) because his smile is so contagious.
He made me realize how much I love surprises.
Ei, your sweet spirit is the most amazing gift. I am so blessed to be your Mama. Every day you give me a reason to smile, and you help me remember to enjoy the journey. In your words, "You're the best!" I love being your mom, and I am so honored to be in your life. Love, Mama
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
When Nothing Adds Up to Something
Last year my MOPS group had a great speaker who talked with us about sin. In her talk, she made the point that Satan tells us that we are not satisfied with our lives so that we'll seek out what we're missing. The irony is that in seeking for what's "missing" we actually lose what we already had--a close relationship with God. Our greed takes over and separates us from Him. Sounds a lot like the situation in the Garden of Eden, no? She used a word that buzzed around in my head all summer: contentment. "Be content with your lives," she warned.
And so I set out to be content. It lasted about 2 hours. Then I drove home and saw that my neighbor had hired a professional landscaper, and her yard looked awesome. Oooh...I want that too. Then I opened the refrigerator and discovered that I had all the ingredients for a perfectly nice chicken dinner but lacked the motivation to put it together, so I took my family out to dinner, where we ordered chicken much like what I was going to prepare but a lot more expensive. And so went the summer.
A couple of weeks ago my minister preached on contentment. It just so happened that it was the first Sunday that my 6 month old baby has ever stayed in the nursery happily for the entire service. I sat uncomfortably in my pew feeling as though he was talking right to me. "You fool, you didn't at all do what you promised yourself you would do," he said--but not in those words.
Then Mary (of Owlhaven.net) wrote about the 30 Days of Nothing. For the month of September she and her family swear off all unnecessary expenses. There are no rules, exactly. The idea is to decide what is necessary to your family. She has her reasons for doing this project, but I won't recap them all here. Go to her site if you want to get the whole scoop. When I first read about it I thought that it sounded interesting, but I had no intention of joining in.
Near the end of August I ran into Target to pick up a few things on our shopping list. You should know that I'm a Target-junkie. I enter with full intentions to buy 1 tube of toothpaste and a box of dish washing soap, and I reach the counter with $72 worth of treasures. Every time. It's a sickness. My kids have discovered the Dollar Zone. It's chock-full of junky toys that, because they only cost $1, Mama will purchase. So, we enter the store and immediately fill our cart with about 9 toys from the Dollar Zone. Then we make our way around the store and eventually end up at the counter with--yes--$70-something worth of items. I swear, I should go on The Price is Right because I can hit that $70-something mark with my eyes closed. But the story doesn't end here. No, I got home and realized that, despite the fact that I brought home approximately $50 in things that were NOT on the list, I managed to miss one necessary item that was ON the list. So, we head back to Target, mere hours from our last trip. But I'm no dummy. I knew my husband would not be pleased with two big receipts from Target in one day, and I also knew that my kids would not willingly leave the store without their precious Dollar Zone toys (never mind that I already bought every one that they wanted that morning). So, I had a chat with them in the car on the way there. "We are NOT buying toys this time. We just bought some this morning. We are NOT buying a slushy or popcorn. We are NOT buying candy in the checkout aisle." Whine, whine, whine. Well, at least we're clear on the rules. We enter. And it starts. Can-we-gets galore. "No, we are not buying another punch balloon simply because you popped yours this afternoon." "No, we are not buying a pretzel, even though your offer to share it with your brother was most noble." "No, we are not buying cat food. We don't even have a cat!" This is out of control. I went home fuming. My children are spoiled brats. How did that happen? I was reminded of exactly how that happened when I got home and tripped over 35 cars, 22 balls, and 3 huge boxes of Lego's all spilled across the floor. They want more because I've taught them to want more. Yikes. We're SO doing the 30 Days of Nothing.
So, for our family, what is necessary? We haven't exactly pinned that down yet. I think that, rather than sitting down and drawing up rules for the month, we'll just play it by ear and see what we decide we need and what we decide we can do without. I feel certain that we'll purchase things that someone else would deem frivolous. My goal here is not deprivation. My goal is for us to become aware of how very well we have been blessed and, hopefully, find some contentment with our lives.
Today we went to the library for story time (as we do every Wednesday) and saw a couple of the boys' friends there. The boys wanted to go to lunch with their friends, but I was firm that we were eating lunch at home today. We made sandwiches and ate on the back porch and then played on their swing set. It was wonderful. And, for just a few minutes, I felt content.
And so I set out to be content. It lasted about 2 hours. Then I drove home and saw that my neighbor had hired a professional landscaper, and her yard looked awesome. Oooh...I want that too. Then I opened the refrigerator and discovered that I had all the ingredients for a perfectly nice chicken dinner but lacked the motivation to put it together, so I took my family out to dinner, where we ordered chicken much like what I was going to prepare but a lot more expensive. And so went the summer.
A couple of weeks ago my minister preached on contentment. It just so happened that it was the first Sunday that my 6 month old baby has ever stayed in the nursery happily for the entire service. I sat uncomfortably in my pew feeling as though he was talking right to me. "You fool, you didn't at all do what you promised yourself you would do," he said--but not in those words.
Then Mary (of Owlhaven.net) wrote about the 30 Days of Nothing. For the month of September she and her family swear off all unnecessary expenses. There are no rules, exactly. The idea is to decide what is necessary to your family. She has her reasons for doing this project, but I won't recap them all here. Go to her site if you want to get the whole scoop. When I first read about it I thought that it sounded interesting, but I had no intention of joining in.
Near the end of August I ran into Target to pick up a few things on our shopping list. You should know that I'm a Target-junkie. I enter with full intentions to buy 1 tube of toothpaste and a box of dish washing soap, and I reach the counter with $72 worth of treasures. Every time. It's a sickness. My kids have discovered the Dollar Zone. It's chock-full of junky toys that, because they only cost $1, Mama will purchase. So, we enter the store and immediately fill our cart with about 9 toys from the Dollar Zone. Then we make our way around the store and eventually end up at the counter with--yes--$70-something worth of items. I swear, I should go on The Price is Right because I can hit that $70-something mark with my eyes closed. But the story doesn't end here. No, I got home and realized that, despite the fact that I brought home approximately $50 in things that were NOT on the list, I managed to miss one necessary item that was ON the list. So, we head back to Target, mere hours from our last trip. But I'm no dummy. I knew my husband would not be pleased with two big receipts from Target in one day, and I also knew that my kids would not willingly leave the store without their precious Dollar Zone toys (never mind that I already bought every one that they wanted that morning). So, I had a chat with them in the car on the way there. "We are NOT buying toys this time. We just bought some this morning. We are NOT buying a slushy or popcorn. We are NOT buying candy in the checkout aisle." Whine, whine, whine. Well, at least we're clear on the rules. We enter. And it starts. Can-we-gets galore. "No, we are not buying another punch balloon simply because you popped yours this afternoon." "No, we are not buying a pretzel, even though your offer to share it with your brother was most noble." "No, we are not buying cat food. We don't even have a cat!" This is out of control. I went home fuming. My children are spoiled brats. How did that happen? I was reminded of exactly how that happened when I got home and tripped over 35 cars, 22 balls, and 3 huge boxes of Lego's all spilled across the floor. They want more because I've taught them to want more. Yikes. We're SO doing the 30 Days of Nothing.
So, for our family, what is necessary? We haven't exactly pinned that down yet. I think that, rather than sitting down and drawing up rules for the month, we'll just play it by ear and see what we decide we need and what we decide we can do without. I feel certain that we'll purchase things that someone else would deem frivolous. My goal here is not deprivation. My goal is for us to become aware of how very well we have been blessed and, hopefully, find some contentment with our lives.
Today we went to the library for story time (as we do every Wednesday) and saw a couple of the boys' friends there. The boys wanted to go to lunch with their friends, but I was firm that we were eating lunch at home today. We made sandwiches and ate on the back porch and then played on their swing set. It was wonderful. And, for just a few minutes, I felt content.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wear the Aare Bear, Mama Bear
These days, I'm babywearing. My sweet Aaron (Aare Bear, as I've taken to calling him) demands to be held at all times. I researched the best wraps and slings to find the perfect one for us. I decided on a Peanut Shell pouch sling. He LOVES it. No matter how fussy he is, I can pop him in there and he'll be content (sometimes even asleep) within minutes. The maker claims I can wear him until he's 35 pounds. I guess they're sending me a personal trainer to buff up too? He will be 6 months tomorrow. 6 months. Half a year. That's 1/36 of my time with him. Okay, probably a little dramatic. Taking a deep breath.
I'm feeling overwhelmed with life today. This morning the boys were especially petulant, and I wasn't at my most patient as I threw clothes on them and tried to get out the door. Ei pooped all over everything 10 minutes before we had to leave, and my only choice was to throw him in the shower. I am at my wit's end with potty training (or lack thereof). I couldn't keep Aaron in his sling while I was cleaning the mess, so he was wailing from his exersaucer. Jackson thought of 500 things that he needed, and I fussed at him to leave me alone. We finally got in the car, and I unloaded them at Nana's. She told me she wanted a diaper on Ei, which I completely ignored. I understand her concern (refer to Monday's post), but I can't take two steps back in process. It was rainy and gross outside. An 18-wheeler changed lanes on the interstate too close to me, and suddenly, I wanted to cry. I dumped them in Nana's house and left with a half-hearted kiss on each of their cheeks. What if the truck had hit me and I never had the chance to make peace with my kids? I'm the grown-up here. I can't believe I let myself get so worked up over normal kid stuff. But I did make it back, and I grabbed them up and kissed all over them as soon as I did.
Okay, last random thought... I took Jackson to his cello lesson this afternoon. Yes, my 4 year old takes cello. I know that everyone who hears that thinks that I'm one of those crazy whip-cracking moms who makes their kids take music lessons and practice French in their spare time, but I promise I'm not. He wants to play the cello. So, off to cello lessons we go. His teacher is really sweet, and he likes her very much. At home, he is so excited about this whole experience. At the lesson, however, it's a different story. He sucks in his cheeks the way he does when he's nervous, and he refuses to speak. He won't make eye contact with her, and his limbs jerk rather than move fluidly. I knew he was shy, but this seems a bit extreme. So, of course my mind goes to dark places and I worry. Breathe.
So, I can't seem to potty train my middle child. I can't seem to socialize my oldest. But I can wear the Aare Bear and solve all his problems. So, I wear on. He's almost 20 pounds. I am going to need a backup plan for what to do 16 pounds from now.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Hansel and Gretel, Eat Your Heart Out
I was feeding the baby when Jackson came running into the room screaming, "POOP ON THE FLOOR!" This is not new. Ei waits until I'm busy with something, then he relieves himself on the floor, and Big Brother comes tattling. So, I was not surprised to see this.
I did, however, grow more distressed to see this.
And this.
And this.
So, I guess I should consider this a sign of progress. I mean, he DID eventually get to the bathroom, right? I hate potty training.
I did, however, grow more distressed to see this.
And this.
And this.
And, eventually, this. Guess where I found him???
So, I guess I should consider this a sign of progress. I mean, he DID eventually get to the bathroom, right? I hate potty training.Thursday, August 14, 2008
Mrs. Jackson's Mama
The other night I went out with a group of friends from my MOPS group. The next day, my kids asked me who went with me. "Emily's Mama, Hannah's Mama, Brooke's Mama, Eli's Mama..." and so on until I had listed all the ladies who joined me. It never occurred to me to use their names. I wonder if other people refer to me as Jackson, Ethan, and Aaron's Mama?
There was a moment when I was pondering this that I thought it is so very sad that women lose their identities over time. We marry our husbands and become Mrs. So-and-So. Then we have our children and become Jr. So-and-So's Mama. We pack away our hobby rooms to make space for a baby. We stop listening to music we enjoy and start listening to Silly Sally Sings Sunday School Songs. Ask any mom to tell you about herself, and she will instead tell you about her family. "Well, I have 3 children and a great husband."
But I've decided it's not so very sad after all. Being a wife and mother IS my identity. I spend my days thinking about what to make for supper, how to potty train, when to start my kids in school, how to get a baby to sleep. That's my life. 5 years ago it might have sounded miserable. I always pictured myself as the working-mom type. I liked the image of me working by day and mothering by night. No way was I going to trade in my identity for a day full of diapers and Goodnight Moon. Then everything changed. During my first pregnancy Mike and I started having the talk about my returning to work after the baby was born. Something inside of me had already changed. I couldn't bear the thought of dropping off my baby in daycare so I could go to work at a job that suddenly seemed meaningless. So, Mike and I compromised on a part-time working solution. No daycare--I would work 3 days a week, and my mom would help me with the baby. So, when my Jackson was 12 weeks old I went to work. I showed off pictures of the baby, felt the overwhelming need to run home to him, burst into tears and holed myself up in my office for the rest of the day. I called Mike and told him we would make it work but that I just couldn't COULDN'T do this. He agreed (bless him), and I called my boss. She already suspected that I wouldn't return and had a replacement for me picked out. The next day I returned to work for my last day--baby on hip.
So, 4 years and 2 babies later, who am I? I'm Jackson's Mama. I'm Ethan's Mama. I'm Aaron's Mama. I'm Mike's wife. I am Miss Katina to the kids in playgroup. I'm Kat to my best friend since childhood. And I'm still just plain old Katina to my mom. I guess you never really lose who you are. I'm still Katina. I still enjoy musicals. I still get excited about Christmas trees. I still cry when I watch Steel Magnolias. I'm still afraid of artificial sweeteners. I still crave "depression cake." I still hate heights. I'm me--but better. Now I have magic kisses that make boo-boos feel better. Now I know all the words to Raffi's Greatest Hits. Now I am the queen of my house. And, my, it's good to be queen.
There was a moment when I was pondering this that I thought it is so very sad that women lose their identities over time. We marry our husbands and become Mrs. So-and-So. Then we have our children and become Jr. So-and-So's Mama. We pack away our hobby rooms to make space for a baby. We stop listening to music we enjoy and start listening to Silly Sally Sings Sunday School Songs. Ask any mom to tell you about herself, and she will instead tell you about her family. "Well, I have 3 children and a great husband."
But I've decided it's not so very sad after all. Being a wife and mother IS my identity. I spend my days thinking about what to make for supper, how to potty train, when to start my kids in school, how to get a baby to sleep. That's my life. 5 years ago it might have sounded miserable. I always pictured myself as the working-mom type. I liked the image of me working by day and mothering by night. No way was I going to trade in my identity for a day full of diapers and Goodnight Moon. Then everything changed. During my first pregnancy Mike and I started having the talk about my returning to work after the baby was born. Something inside of me had already changed. I couldn't bear the thought of dropping off my baby in daycare so I could go to work at a job that suddenly seemed meaningless. So, Mike and I compromised on a part-time working solution. No daycare--I would work 3 days a week, and my mom would help me with the baby. So, when my Jackson was 12 weeks old I went to work. I showed off pictures of the baby, felt the overwhelming need to run home to him, burst into tears and holed myself up in my office for the rest of the day. I called Mike and told him we would make it work but that I just couldn't COULDN'T do this. He agreed (bless him), and I called my boss. She already suspected that I wouldn't return and had a replacement for me picked out. The next day I returned to work for my last day--baby on hip.
So, 4 years and 2 babies later, who am I? I'm Jackson's Mama. I'm Ethan's Mama. I'm Aaron's Mama. I'm Mike's wife. I am Miss Katina to the kids in playgroup. I'm Kat to my best friend since childhood. And I'm still just plain old Katina to my mom. I guess you never really lose who you are. I'm still Katina. I still enjoy musicals. I still get excited about Christmas trees. I still cry when I watch Steel Magnolias. I'm still afraid of artificial sweeteners. I still crave "depression cake." I still hate heights. I'm me--but better. Now I have magic kisses that make boo-boos feel better. Now I know all the words to Raffi's Greatest Hits. Now I am the queen of my house. And, my, it's good to be queen.
Mike and Katina, in a previous life (2003)
Mike and Katina (and sons) now
Monday, August 11, 2008
BE KIND (and please rewind)
I had this thought the other day: "They aren't mine." Yes, they're "my" kids. Yes, I birthed them, diapered them, fed them, clothed them, disciplined them, played with them, loved them. But they still aren't mine. Although they grew in my body, I didn't make them. These precious people are on loan to me from the One who made them. Eventually my job will be done. I'll have to send them into the world and hope that I've taught them to love God and respect others.
Loan me a book, and I'll read it very carefully so that I don't crease the spine or wrinkle any of the pages. Loan me your car and I'll drive it like it's made of glass so I don't scratch the paint or dirty the tires. I'd NEVER return a movie to the video store without rewinding it. (Those of you who are of the younger generation, we used to borrow VHS movies from Blockbuster roughly 100 years ago.) Yet, I've got 3 great kids on loan, and I often forget to take such good care of them. I damage their spirits by using a harsh voice. I damage their creativity by focusing on the mess they made rather than the masterpiece they completed. I damage their understanding of what it is to be a Christian when I don't live what I teach.
It makes me cry to think of the day that I drop them off at college and return home empty- handed. I know that on that day I'd give anything for one more chance to sit in the floor and make play-doh food or curl up on the bed together and read them a story. So why do I fly through those things like they're mundane chores now? The "return by" date is coming up. 18 years is a very short time to get it right. I'm wasting time. There are books to be read, pictures to be painted, walks to be taken, cuddles to be shared.
Loan me a book, and I'll read it very carefully so that I don't crease the spine or wrinkle any of the pages. Loan me your car and I'll drive it like it's made of glass so I don't scratch the paint or dirty the tires. I'd NEVER return a movie to the video store without rewinding it. (Those of you who are of the younger generation, we used to borrow VHS movies from Blockbuster roughly 100 years ago.) Yet, I've got 3 great kids on loan, and I often forget to take such good care of them. I damage their spirits by using a harsh voice. I damage their creativity by focusing on the mess they made rather than the masterpiece they completed. I damage their understanding of what it is to be a Christian when I don't live what I teach.
It makes me cry to think of the day that I drop them off at college and return home empty- handed. I know that on that day I'd give anything for one more chance to sit in the floor and make play-doh food or curl up on the bed together and read them a story. So why do I fly through those things like they're mundane chores now? The "return by" date is coming up. 18 years is a very short time to get it right. I'm wasting time. There are books to be read, pictures to be painted, walks to be taken, cuddles to be shared.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Happy Days are Here Again
Since I wrote an entire post about how Aaron is driving me crazy some weeks back, I thought I better return now to say that he has become a delightful baby. Oh, true, he still wakes up 3 times at night (no kidding) and he screams if I try to sit in the sanctuary on Sunday mornings (what does he have against church??), but overall life is better. He smiles and coos often. He adores Ei and laughs just at the sight of him. He takes a nap every morning (and sometimes in the afternoons). He still demands lots of social attention and wants to be held at all times, but at least we've gotten past the unexplained crying stage. I've decided to become a babywearer. I ordered my wrap yesterday. More on that later.
So, I think I'm ready for #4. Could you please help me convince Mike?
So, I think I'm ready for #4. Could you please help me convince Mike?
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Yes, Monsters are Real
If you are not from Knoxville, let me quickly fill you in on what happened in our city last week. I was nursing my baby in the dark in the church nursery enjoying a few minutes of quiet with him before church started. The nursery worker came into the room looking like she'd just seen a ghost. "There's been a shooting at the Unitarian church," she told me. She didn't have a lot of details, because it had just happened and the media didn't quite know what was going on yet. Later I learned that a man entered the church during a children's musical, took a gun out of his guitar case, and opened fire on the crowd. He killed 2 people and injured several others. Children witnessed the entire event. How those babies are sleeping at night now, I have no idea. The news later reported that the man was acting out his rage over the fact that the church openly invited gay persons to worship there and supported other "liberal" policies. Scary stuff.
So, seven days later, where are we? Every Sunday I ask my kids the same question: "After the Children's Sermon, do you want to stay in big church (the worship service) or go to Children's church?" Until recently, Jackson chose to stay in big church, but now Ei is old enough to go to Children's Church with him, so that's what they've selected for the past few weeks. Today I cringed as I asked that question. As I suspected, they said they wanted to go to Children's Church. I considered going with them. What if that man were to have chosen our church? What if someone entered our church angry over some political stance the church has chosen to take (or not take) and opened fire near my babies? The idea of it makes me ill. Are they safe downstairs so far away from the service? Are they safe on the playground? During the service, I was walking my baby in the narthex (he cries if I stay in the sanctuary, so I try to listen to the service from the back). A couple tried to slip out early, but the doors were locked. One of the ushers came out of the sanctuary to help the couple and explained that we lock the doors after the service begins now. They nodded in understanding, and no one had to say what we all thought to ourselves: if you aren't safe at church, can you be safe anywhere?
I'm so angry over the whole thing I just can't stand it. I'm angry with that man--that monster--who took away our sense of security at church. I'm angry with our government for allowing any old Joe to have a gun. Yeah, I've heard the argument that guns don't kill people, people kill people. Well, I say, hogwash. People kill people WITH GUNS. I'm scared too. I want to round up my children and shelter them like a mother chicken does her chicks. And I'm confused about why God allowed such a tragedy to occur. Here's where things get complicated, I guess. We had a rather lengthy discussion in my theology class last semester about the age-old question of why God allows bad things to happen to good people. I left even more confused than before the class. The one idea I did latch on to was that God grieves with us when bad things happen. I choose to believe that God mourned last week too.
I've been thinking a lot about the horrible man who did this. I read a discussion board about whether he deserves the death penalty. I'm not even sure if that's a possibility. Does Tennessee even have a death penalty? I don't know, but that's not the point. I just got started thinking about what God would want us to do. I keep thinking about how God made that guy and celebrated his birth. I keep thinking about how he was a baby, just like any of us, innocent and helpless. And I wonder if something happened to his man to make him the monster that he is today. I wonder if someone hurt him or if he just grew up around meanness so that's all he ever knew. I wish I could say that my heart feels sad for him thinking about these possibilities, but I can't. I just feel angry. And sad. And scared.
My oldest son has been having nightmares for a few months now. I think it goes with his OCD personality (not to diagnose him prematurely, but, well, if you knew him...) He worries and gets worked up over little things. (Where in the world did he get that??) The other day I asked him what scares him so badly. He told me he's afraid of monsters. I told him there's no such thing as monsters. But I lied. There are monsters. And I'm afraid of them too.
So, seven days later, where are we? Every Sunday I ask my kids the same question: "After the Children's Sermon, do you want to stay in big church (the worship service) or go to Children's church?" Until recently, Jackson chose to stay in big church, but now Ei is old enough to go to Children's Church with him, so that's what they've selected for the past few weeks. Today I cringed as I asked that question. As I suspected, they said they wanted to go to Children's Church. I considered going with them. What if that man were to have chosen our church? What if someone entered our church angry over some political stance the church has chosen to take (or not take) and opened fire near my babies? The idea of it makes me ill. Are they safe downstairs so far away from the service? Are they safe on the playground? During the service, I was walking my baby in the narthex (he cries if I stay in the sanctuary, so I try to listen to the service from the back). A couple tried to slip out early, but the doors were locked. One of the ushers came out of the sanctuary to help the couple and explained that we lock the doors after the service begins now. They nodded in understanding, and no one had to say what we all thought to ourselves: if you aren't safe at church, can you be safe anywhere?
I'm so angry over the whole thing I just can't stand it. I'm angry with that man--that monster--who took away our sense of security at church. I'm angry with our government for allowing any old Joe to have a gun. Yeah, I've heard the argument that guns don't kill people, people kill people. Well, I say, hogwash. People kill people WITH GUNS. I'm scared too. I want to round up my children and shelter them like a mother chicken does her chicks. And I'm confused about why God allowed such a tragedy to occur. Here's where things get complicated, I guess. We had a rather lengthy discussion in my theology class last semester about the age-old question of why God allows bad things to happen to good people. I left even more confused than before the class. The one idea I did latch on to was that God grieves with us when bad things happen. I choose to believe that God mourned last week too.
I've been thinking a lot about the horrible man who did this. I read a discussion board about whether he deserves the death penalty. I'm not even sure if that's a possibility. Does Tennessee even have a death penalty? I don't know, but that's not the point. I just got started thinking about what God would want us to do. I keep thinking about how God made that guy and celebrated his birth. I keep thinking about how he was a baby, just like any of us, innocent and helpless. And I wonder if something happened to his man to make him the monster that he is today. I wonder if someone hurt him or if he just grew up around meanness so that's all he ever knew. I wish I could say that my heart feels sad for him thinking about these possibilities, but I can't. I just feel angry. And sad. And scared.
My oldest son has been having nightmares for a few months now. I think it goes with his OCD personality (not to diagnose him prematurely, but, well, if you knew him...) He worries and gets worked up over little things. (Where in the world did he get that??) The other day I asked him what scares him so badly. He told me he's afraid of monsters. I told him there's no such thing as monsters. But I lied. There are monsters. And I'm afraid of them too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
