I am not crafty mom. I am not creative mom. I am not even "let him play with play-doh every time he asks" mom. I am not structured without flexibility mom. I probably let him watch more television than he should (although, in my defense, the kid loves "Andy and Barney.") I am not perfect. And I'll not claim to be.
But I have to admit, the days when the television is off longer, I enjoy more. I'll put on music and we dance and act silly. Or I'll turn it off entirely and go take my shower. When I come out, he's using his imagination and creatively playing with his toys or singing and drumming on whatever he can find.
Today, we acted silly together like super heroes. (Jackson started it by draping a blanket on his shoulders and saying, "I super!") So I grabbed my fuzzy pink bathrobe, Lino grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa, and we tied those, as well as Jackson's blanket, around all three of our necks. (That way, our capes wouldn't fall as we "flew.") We ran around with capes flowing behind us. We proclaimed our super-ness. Then after dinner, we played with a few puzzles. (I'm always impressed at how much more our son knows than I realize.) Then we read a few books. And I'm always amazed that he has memorized some of the books and wants to take his turn "reading" to us. Then we sang a few songs and just generally enjoyed being together as a family.
And it got me thinking. I don't know at what age memories and moments become imprinted on children. I don't know if he'll remember any of these things. I don't know if he'll recall playing superheroes when he's a teenager or father or granddad. I'm not sure if these moments matter in the grand scheme of his life. But they sure matter in the grand scheme of mine. And so, if these memories are made only for me, they are beautiful, worthwhile moments I know I'll carry with me the rest of my life. These times make me so grateful for the child I have, the husband I have, the job I have, and the life I have. I know the days I want to pull my hair out, these small memories will soothe me and remind me how very blessed I am.
So I'll make memories. Hopefully, I'll realize how much I enjoy these days and be more deliberate to make them wonderful more often. I'll keep these memories. I'll understand what the Bible said when it was written, "She treasured these things and pondered them in her heart." I'll lock away these memories as treasures of the wonderous grace and mercy God gave me in this little family.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Choosing God on this side of Eternity
I've thought a lot lately about one of the misconceptions about people who choose to believe in and love and trust in God. I think a lot of people, believers, agnostics, and atheists, are under the impression that belief in the Almighty is simply a free pass from suffering in the afterlife. How sad and misguided! People fail to remember that life on this planet was meant to be permanent and perfect and lovely. When WE chose to reject the perfection He offered us, another plan was set into motion.
But believing in Christ and accepting his offer of salvation and eternal life isn't the only gifts He gives. Rather, the Giver of Life wants us to experience a full and satisfying life on THIS side of Eternity, as well as the other side. Choosing Christ is not a promise to have no problems or trials or sufferings on Earth. (Actually, He kind of said the exact opposite.) But what we do have in the midst of those trials and sufferings is amazing. And, in my opinion, something a relationship with a false deity or no belief in the Higher Power, can offer.
What we have on Earth is Peace and Joy. God gives us peace in the most horrific of circumstances, even when we don't understand it. While we cry, He weeps with us. He holds us in His arms. But then He does something incredible. He turns our mourning into JOY. His timing for that transition is unique in every situation. And we must let Him. It is usually subtle. It sneaks up on us. But He puts a glimmer of a smile where we never thought we'd find one again.
He gives us Trust. He allows us to trust Him and our fellow human beings. I think we're a suspicious breed by nature because we know the sin and deceit of which we're capable. But through Him, through the trust that He's gained by proving Himself faithful and true throughout the ages, we trust one another. And we become people who can be trusted.
He pours out Blessings. He desperately wants to spoil us with His love. And He's so creative in how He does it! Maybe our salary isn't as big as we think it out to be. But maybe our money stretches further because He allows our car not to break down. Or He provides a mechanic who cuts us a break. Or milk and bread are on sale when payday's a week away. Maybe He gives us blessings in the form of the lives He allows us to intersect. Maybe He puts your new lifelong bestie in your path in the most obscure and unlikely of ways.
And most of all, He gives us Grace and Mercy. For me, I cannot consider one of these attributes by itself. Grace is getting what we don't deserve. Mercy is not getting what we do deserve. How humbling both of those thoughts are! In a culture that preaches entitlement, it's an honor to know that our life is not steered by what we do or don't deserve. Our lives are guided by His richness in Glory. The Grace that I've received time and again is almost unfathomable. And the Mercy. Oh the Mercy. So often I continue to pray, "Please don't give me what I deserve!" And I have so much more than I could ask for or imagine. And the best part of all? His Mercies are new every morning. His faithfulness never ceases, even on this side of Heaven.
Don't get me wrong. The idea of spending an Eternity with the Creator greatly excites me. I believe in Heaven. But I don't think I'm supposed to rush to get there. God has given me so much here on Earth. I want to treasure and cherish every person, every blessing, every possible moment while I'm allowed. God is truly a God of Eternity. He stretches from Age to Age, Beginning to End. His love doesn't begin with our Death. So why should we limit His blessings and riches of LIFE to solely the afterlife?
But believing in Christ and accepting his offer of salvation and eternal life isn't the only gifts He gives. Rather, the Giver of Life wants us to experience a full and satisfying life on THIS side of Eternity, as well as the other side. Choosing Christ is not a promise to have no problems or trials or sufferings on Earth. (Actually, He kind of said the exact opposite.) But what we do have in the midst of those trials and sufferings is amazing. And, in my opinion, something a relationship with a false deity or no belief in the Higher Power, can offer.
What we have on Earth is Peace and Joy. God gives us peace in the most horrific of circumstances, even when we don't understand it. While we cry, He weeps with us. He holds us in His arms. But then He does something incredible. He turns our mourning into JOY. His timing for that transition is unique in every situation. And we must let Him. It is usually subtle. It sneaks up on us. But He puts a glimmer of a smile where we never thought we'd find one again.
He gives us Trust. He allows us to trust Him and our fellow human beings. I think we're a suspicious breed by nature because we know the sin and deceit of which we're capable. But through Him, through the trust that He's gained by proving Himself faithful and true throughout the ages, we trust one another. And we become people who can be trusted.
He pours out Blessings. He desperately wants to spoil us with His love. And He's so creative in how He does it! Maybe our salary isn't as big as we think it out to be. But maybe our money stretches further because He allows our car not to break down. Or He provides a mechanic who cuts us a break. Or milk and bread are on sale when payday's a week away. Maybe He gives us blessings in the form of the lives He allows us to intersect. Maybe He puts your new lifelong bestie in your path in the most obscure and unlikely of ways.
And most of all, He gives us Grace and Mercy. For me, I cannot consider one of these attributes by itself. Grace is getting what we don't deserve. Mercy is not getting what we do deserve. How humbling both of those thoughts are! In a culture that preaches entitlement, it's an honor to know that our life is not steered by what we do or don't deserve. Our lives are guided by His richness in Glory. The Grace that I've received time and again is almost unfathomable. And the Mercy. Oh the Mercy. So often I continue to pray, "Please don't give me what I deserve!" And I have so much more than I could ask for or imagine. And the best part of all? His Mercies are new every morning. His faithfulness never ceases, even on this side of Heaven.
Don't get me wrong. The idea of spending an Eternity with the Creator greatly excites me. I believe in Heaven. But I don't think I'm supposed to rush to get there. God has given me so much here on Earth. I want to treasure and cherish every person, every blessing, every possible moment while I'm allowed. God is truly a God of Eternity. He stretches from Age to Age, Beginning to End. His love doesn't begin with our Death. So why should we limit His blessings and riches of LIFE to solely the afterlife?
Monday, July 15, 2013
My Infinitely Wise Perspective of Potty Training
Like so many other parents (of one child,) I am the quintessential expert on potty training and everyone should do everything exactly as I have because my child is perfect.
Yeah, I couldn't keep a straight face when I wrote that, either... But here's my reality. I read lots of books. I read lots of blogs. I listened to mommy-friends and mommies I either don't know or don't care for giving me both solicited and unsolicited advice. I read books that told me to let him run around naked. I heard people tell me to plan to not go anywhere for a week or better. I had people tell me he needs to be forced to do it when he's 2. I've heard that I shouldn't give up if it doesn't seem to be working because then the child will feel like he's "winning" and I'll never be the person in charge again.
I tried potty-training several months ago. I tried the methods in the book and the methods (that made sense) from moms I know, trust, respect, and admire. I tried letting him run around in just his underwear. I tried forcing him to drink constantly and making him pee every 15 minutes. I tried putting training toilets on towels in the living room and the bathroom. I tried, I tried, I tried. But after a while, Jackson just flat out laid down on the floor screaming, "I don't want the potty!" I offered him a choice of wearing big boy underwear or a baby diaper. He looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Baby diaper."
So, I backed off. I put him back in diapers. I'd offer the option of the potty every so often, but I never pushed the issue. My philosophy became as follows (with wise insight from two fabulous moms): 1) If I turn this into a battle of wills, he may become too stubborn and actually do damage to his body (i.e. UTI or constipation) by refusing to toilet. 2) Nobody ever started kindergarten wearing diapers. 3) Regardless of how much I push, he won't be potty trained one day earlier than he chooses to. The only difference is how long we both spend being frustrated.
A couple of weeks ago, out of the clear blue sky (not having talked about it lately) I was about to put a diaper on him. "I want big boy underwear, Momma," he said. "Ok. But that means you have to go pee-pee in the potty, not in the pants," I explained. (Duh! Of course I told him he could wear underwear!) Early on, he had a few accidents. He'd refuse to use the toilet only to have an accident. He's still not great about telling me (I have to tell, not ask, him.) But he's agreeing to it now and slowly getting better. He's learning to say "I don't need to go," instead of "I don't like the potty!" He's even gotten to the point where he'll come find me and tell me he needs to "pook." (His word, not mine.)
He's been accident-free for probably 5 days or better. This includes going to the gym, dance and tumbling class, the park, long drives, and other people's homes. He's getting to the point where he's waking up from naps and even in the morning bone-dry. (Not every time, but more often than I'd expect.) All that to say, I'm all for being the parent. I'm all for being the person responsible for his well-being and see that he develops on track, eats healthily(ish), has manners, and generally turns out (hopefully) to be a kind and responsible adult in a couple of decades. But in this particular circumstance, for this particular parent and child pair, it has definitely been the right decision to have this be a child-initiated event.
So, as I said previously, do everything exactly as I say. Because (this second time around,) potty training is pretty darn easy, laid back, relatively unfrustrating, and ridiculously rewarding. BE LIKE ME!
Yeah, I couldn't keep a straight face when I wrote that, either... But here's my reality. I read lots of books. I read lots of blogs. I listened to mommy-friends and mommies I either don't know or don't care for giving me both solicited and unsolicited advice. I read books that told me to let him run around naked. I heard people tell me to plan to not go anywhere for a week or better. I had people tell me he needs to be forced to do it when he's 2. I've heard that I shouldn't give up if it doesn't seem to be working because then the child will feel like he's "winning" and I'll never be the person in charge again.
I tried potty-training several months ago. I tried the methods in the book and the methods (that made sense) from moms I know, trust, respect, and admire. I tried letting him run around in just his underwear. I tried forcing him to drink constantly and making him pee every 15 minutes. I tried putting training toilets on towels in the living room and the bathroom. I tried, I tried, I tried. But after a while, Jackson just flat out laid down on the floor screaming, "I don't want the potty!" I offered him a choice of wearing big boy underwear or a baby diaper. He looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Baby diaper."
So, I backed off. I put him back in diapers. I'd offer the option of the potty every so often, but I never pushed the issue. My philosophy became as follows (with wise insight from two fabulous moms): 1) If I turn this into a battle of wills, he may become too stubborn and actually do damage to his body (i.e. UTI or constipation) by refusing to toilet. 2) Nobody ever started kindergarten wearing diapers. 3) Regardless of how much I push, he won't be potty trained one day earlier than he chooses to. The only difference is how long we both spend being frustrated.
A couple of weeks ago, out of the clear blue sky (not having talked about it lately) I was about to put a diaper on him. "I want big boy underwear, Momma," he said. "Ok. But that means you have to go pee-pee in the potty, not in the pants," I explained. (Duh! Of course I told him he could wear underwear!) Early on, he had a few accidents. He'd refuse to use the toilet only to have an accident. He's still not great about telling me (I have to tell, not ask, him.) But he's agreeing to it now and slowly getting better. He's learning to say "I don't need to go," instead of "I don't like the potty!" He's even gotten to the point where he'll come find me and tell me he needs to "pook." (His word, not mine.)
He's been accident-free for probably 5 days or better. This includes going to the gym, dance and tumbling class, the park, long drives, and other people's homes. He's getting to the point where he's waking up from naps and even in the morning bone-dry. (Not every time, but more often than I'd expect.) All that to say, I'm all for being the parent. I'm all for being the person responsible for his well-being and see that he develops on track, eats healthily(ish), has manners, and generally turns out (hopefully) to be a kind and responsible adult in a couple of decades. But in this particular circumstance, for this particular parent and child pair, it has definitely been the right decision to have this be a child-initiated event.
So, as I said previously, do everything exactly as I say. Because (this second time around,) potty training is pretty darn easy, laid back, relatively unfrustrating, and ridiculously rewarding. BE LIKE ME!
Friday, June 7, 2013
Robbed.
On Sunday, our apartment was broken into. They took some video games, gaming systems, and accessories. They took my husband's work laptop. And they took our personal laptop. (They even had the audacity to use our own trash bags to carry their "loot" out!) And no, we did not have our laptop backed up. Foolish, I know. It will never happen again. Yes, we had renter's insurance. But let me tell you what we were REALLY robbed of...
Photos. They took every picture and video of our son and of our life together. Yes, some of them are on facebook and/or youtube. With a great deal of time, effort, and energy, we will be able to recover at least some of them. But it still just sucks. And it still hurts.
On my laptop was the book that I've been writing over the past couple of years. The one I was over 2/3rds done with. The one I had every intention of finishing by December of this year. The one I thought I had emailed to myself so it would be in "the cloud" in case catastrophe ever struck (but which I cannot currently find in any email account, either inbox or sent items...) On my laptop was other writings (songs, poems, letters, musings.) It absolutely breaks my heart to lose all my writings. I'm going to try my best to recreate them, if for no other reason than to not let the thieves win.
Peace of mind and safety. The small things I took for granted, like showering while my son napped, I'm now afraid to do. My heart rate increases slightly every time I put the key in the door to walk in. Will it catch or will I find it to be unlocked again? Even just being at home alone with my small son makes me nervous for the first time.
And when I say "robbed," I mean that, in a small way, I feel like I've lost small pieces of Nathan again. Pictures of him. Writings about him. Writings of his. Things that weren't on facebook or any other online resource. Things that remind me of him. Just a sense of his being that was digitally captured.
But what they cannot take, what they will never change, is my sense of self. I am not now, and have never been, and will never be a victim. I refuse to allow this circumstance redefine me. I was widowed. I was robbed. But I am NOT a victim. I have had to remind myself over the past week of lessons learned during Nathan's illness and after his passing. I am who I am because of, not in spite of, what I've been through and who I've known and loved. I am always first and foremost a daughter of the most high God. I am daughter to wonderful parents, wife to wonderful men, and mother to a wonderful child. I have amazing siblings, extended family members, and friends. I get through tough situations because I have Christ and support of kind people.
So, while this situation, hurts, and sucks, and makes me uncomfortable and want to cry, I know that the tears will dry. I know the fears will subside. I know the pain will dull. I may recover my data. I probably will not. But no matter what the outcome, I know who I am, I know who I'm not, and I know that, in the end, I'll come out stronger. And they don't get to win...
Photos. They took every picture and video of our son and of our life together. Yes, some of them are on facebook and/or youtube. With a great deal of time, effort, and energy, we will be able to recover at least some of them. But it still just sucks. And it still hurts.
On my laptop was the book that I've been writing over the past couple of years. The one I was over 2/3rds done with. The one I had every intention of finishing by December of this year. The one I thought I had emailed to myself so it would be in "the cloud" in case catastrophe ever struck (but which I cannot currently find in any email account, either inbox or sent items...) On my laptop was other writings (songs, poems, letters, musings.) It absolutely breaks my heart to lose all my writings. I'm going to try my best to recreate them, if for no other reason than to not let the thieves win.
Peace of mind and safety. The small things I took for granted, like showering while my son napped, I'm now afraid to do. My heart rate increases slightly every time I put the key in the door to walk in. Will it catch or will I find it to be unlocked again? Even just being at home alone with my small son makes me nervous for the first time.
And when I say "robbed," I mean that, in a small way, I feel like I've lost small pieces of Nathan again. Pictures of him. Writings about him. Writings of his. Things that weren't on facebook or any other online resource. Things that remind me of him. Just a sense of his being that was digitally captured.
But what they cannot take, what they will never change, is my sense of self. I am not now, and have never been, and will never be a victim. I refuse to allow this circumstance redefine me. I was widowed. I was robbed. But I am NOT a victim. I have had to remind myself over the past week of lessons learned during Nathan's illness and after his passing. I am who I am because of, not in spite of, what I've been through and who I've known and loved. I am always first and foremost a daughter of the most high God. I am daughter to wonderful parents, wife to wonderful men, and mother to a wonderful child. I have amazing siblings, extended family members, and friends. I get through tough situations because I have Christ and support of kind people.
So, while this situation, hurts, and sucks, and makes me uncomfortable and want to cry, I know that the tears will dry. I know the fears will subside. I know the pain will dull. I may recover my data. I probably will not. But no matter what the outcome, I know who I am, I know who I'm not, and I know that, in the end, I'll come out stronger. And they don't get to win...
Friday, May 3, 2013
Best Words Ever
Some days, being a play-at-home parent is mentally and emotionally (much less physically!) exhausting. Some days, I feel like all I do is fuss and fight and punish my child. Some days, I REALLY miss having an office to go to or wish someone else would spend the day with my child (knowing full well he would behave like a little angel for anyone but me.)
Today, though, I LOVED being my little boy's mommy. Lately, I guess, would be more accurate. He's still getting up WAAAAYYYY too early in the morning. (I recently bought a stay-in-bed clock on ebay that should arrive tomorrow. Will post more on that another time.) But other than that nasty little habit, his behavior seems better and his temper more even-keeled. But today was epically fun!
It started off with him coming to lay on his dad's side of the bed while his father was in the shower. We snuggled for a few minutes. Then he reaches over, strokes my cheek, and calls me "Sweetheart" in his inarticulate, sing-song, three-year-old voice. So precious! We go to the gym, come home, eat lunch, he naps, yadda-yadda. I asked him what he wanted to play after he had his milk and he said "Basketball." So we go play basketball in his closet (which is large enough to double as his playroom. Seriously.) I love that every time he makes a shot, he falls into me for a giant hug and giggles uncontrollably. (Although I do hope he outgrows that particular habit by the time he's in competitive sports in school, for his own sake!) He missed several shots in a row at one point, and I could see him getting frustrated. I told him to slow down and keep trying. Three shots later, he finally makes another goal. He was so excited and proud of himself! You could see that he had determined not to quit until he made another shot. He sank onto my lap for a cuddle and declared he was done with basketball for the time being.
So we played kitchen. Still in his closet. After he was done "cooking" whatever concoction he was making this time, he decided to pull EVERYTHING out of the play kitchen. I didn't mind as long as it was picked up eventually. Once he was done, he wanted to play with his millions of blankets. I reminded him we have to clean up one thing before starting another. He actually sang the "Clean Up" song by himself! And he actually cleaned up (which was even more impressive than the song.) I know it seems silly and trite, but I'm so impressed when he's actually happily obedient and agreeable to "chore" type activities. I guess maybe him being three isn't the worst thing in the world. He then decided to pile all the blankets on me (as I'm stretched out facedown on the floor) and sit on my back. Then he decides I'm a horse. So he starts bouncing up and down on me saying, "Yee-haw!" I don't know where he got the Yee-haw from, but I couldn't stop laughing! He then puts away most of his bedding, save one blanket which he decided to drape across his shoulders and declare, "I'm super!" (This was also a new one to me; never done or said that before.) I asked him, "Are you Super-Jack?" "Yeah!" he said delightedly. Then he went to get another blanket back off the bed, threw it across my back and said, "Super-Mom!" BEST. WORDS. EVER!
I can't even remember what we did or played after that. All I knew was that, no matter how rotten the bad days are; no matter how often I want to string him up by his toenails; no matter how crazy or angry or sleepy he makes me; I am honored and blessed to be his mommy. And I am beyond privileged to get to have these small middle-of-the-day moments with him. Yep. I love my job!
Today, though, I LOVED being my little boy's mommy. Lately, I guess, would be more accurate. He's still getting up WAAAAYYYY too early in the morning. (I recently bought a stay-in-bed clock on ebay that should arrive tomorrow. Will post more on that another time.) But other than that nasty little habit, his behavior seems better and his temper more even-keeled. But today was epically fun!
It started off with him coming to lay on his dad's side of the bed while his father was in the shower. We snuggled for a few minutes. Then he reaches over, strokes my cheek, and calls me "Sweetheart" in his inarticulate, sing-song, three-year-old voice. So precious! We go to the gym, come home, eat lunch, he naps, yadda-yadda. I asked him what he wanted to play after he had his milk and he said "Basketball." So we go play basketball in his closet (which is large enough to double as his playroom. Seriously.) I love that every time he makes a shot, he falls into me for a giant hug and giggles uncontrollably. (Although I do hope he outgrows that particular habit by the time he's in competitive sports in school, for his own sake!) He missed several shots in a row at one point, and I could see him getting frustrated. I told him to slow down and keep trying. Three shots later, he finally makes another goal. He was so excited and proud of himself! You could see that he had determined not to quit until he made another shot. He sank onto my lap for a cuddle and declared he was done with basketball for the time being.
So we played kitchen. Still in his closet. After he was done "cooking" whatever concoction he was making this time, he decided to pull EVERYTHING out of the play kitchen. I didn't mind as long as it was picked up eventually. Once he was done, he wanted to play with his millions of blankets. I reminded him we have to clean up one thing before starting another. He actually sang the "Clean Up" song by himself! And he actually cleaned up (which was even more impressive than the song.) I know it seems silly and trite, but I'm so impressed when he's actually happily obedient and agreeable to "chore" type activities. I guess maybe him being three isn't the worst thing in the world. He then decided to pile all the blankets on me (as I'm stretched out facedown on the floor) and sit on my back. Then he decides I'm a horse. So he starts bouncing up and down on me saying, "Yee-haw!" I don't know where he got the Yee-haw from, but I couldn't stop laughing! He then puts away most of his bedding, save one blanket which he decided to drape across his shoulders and declare, "I'm super!" (This was also a new one to me; never done or said that before.) I asked him, "Are you Super-Jack?" "Yeah!" he said delightedly. Then he went to get another blanket back off the bed, threw it across my back and said, "Super-Mom!" BEST. WORDS. EVER!
I can't even remember what we did or played after that. All I knew was that, no matter how rotten the bad days are; no matter how often I want to string him up by his toenails; no matter how crazy or angry or sleepy he makes me; I am honored and blessed to be his mommy. And I am beyond privileged to get to have these small middle-of-the-day moments with him. Yep. I love my job!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Be the Help
I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I hate seeing the horrific images. I hate ignoring them. I hate feeling
uninformed. I hate reading about it. I hate that this happened. Again.
I hate living in a world where people shoot children, fly planes into
buildings, and blow up runners and spectators.
I hate not knowing how to handle it or how to respond. I hate feeling so completely and utterly
useless. I hate not knowing how to walk
through this as a mommy. I don’t want to
expose my son to horrors, nor do I want him to not understand the world around
him. (Not that I think this is
comprehendible for any age.) I want to
shield and protect him from all evil.
But that’s not realistic either.
How do I raise him to know what's happening but not be afraid? What’s the appropriate response? What do I say when he asks why Mommy is crying?
I don’t know much.
But I have repeatedly seen on Facebook a quote attributed to Fred “Mr.”
Rogers - "Look for the helpers." I like that.
I like the thought of looking to see who’s running towards a catastrophe instead
of just away from it. That inspires me to take
it a step further. BE the helpers. Maybe there isn’t a disaster in my town
today.
But maybe today I can pack an
extra apple and banana for the person I’ll inevitably see at the interstate
exit. Maybe I can take time to have a
conversation and make eye contact with the person who seems lonely or has a
hard time functioning socially. Maybe I can
give a warm hug or touch the hand of someone who might not get a lot of physical
contact. They may seem like small
trivial things. But if I can help show
kindness and humanity to one other person; if I can be an example of goodness
in a world gone mad for my son; if I can reach another person in love for my
own sake, then in that moment, good still wins.
I am the helper. We are all the
helpers. We have the power to show that
love, even love for strangers, triumphs over evil every time. And if, God forbid, I ever face terror close-up, I hope I am a helper.
We cannot bring back
the lives or limbs lost yesterday. We
cannot restore children and teachers back to their now incomplete
families. We cannot undo how the world
changed 11 ½ years ago. But we can be
helpers. We can show one another, and
our children, how to love. We can be
more than survivors, more than victims.
We can show compassion. We can
restore hope and humanity to everyday life. Be the help in your world.When my son reads in his history books the events of 9/11, the acts of terror, the atrocities that befall our modern world, I hope he asks me where I was, what I thought, what I felt, and what I did. I will tell him - I was scared; I was saddened; I was angry; I was heartbroken; I was determined; and I decided to change the world for the better. I chose to be the help.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Worst day at work since I started this job!
Almost three years ago, I switched jobs. I left the corporate world for the home world. I used to have a paycheck, bosses, coworkers, a cafeteria, and a timeclock to punch in and out. Now, I have a son, no pay, no one to cook for me, and no clocking out. Today was the hardest day I've had since I took this job. I don't regret the job. I don't even regret the decision to leave Corporate America. But boy, oh boy!
It started with breakfast. He ate a few good bites of the bowl of cereal we always share. On the fourth bite, he decided to spit it out. For no (understandably good) reason. Then he asked for a slice of cheese. I gave it to him. He took a tiny nibble, pulled at it until it began to crumble all over the carpet, then wadded it up and threw it in the sink. Frustrating? You betcha! But I didn't force the issue of him eating. If he gets hungry enough, he'll eat.
So we went to the gym, as usual. He was fine with going to the gym. About 20-30 minutes into my workout, they come get me to tell me he has a dirty diaper. (They don't change diapers, which is fine.) I was surprised, since he never has a dirty diaper at the gym (and he'd already made one this morning.) But I went to get him & change him. Everything seemed fine. And then it wasn't. He started (aggressively) telling me he wanted to go swimming. I told him we couldn't today. I didn't bring our swim stuff. Maybe tomorrow. He starts crying and screaming in the locker room. I'm trying to calm him down. I'm trying to reason with him. I'm doing everything I've read in the "how to raise your kid" books. I'm asking him to stop crying and try to use his words to tell me what's wrong. He doesn't. I give him choices so he has control in his life. I offer him to go back and play or go home. I tell him either decision is fine. Neither is a punishment. He's not in trouble. What does he want to do. "I WANT TO SWIM!" And the tantrum escalates.
I again offer him choices. I tell him if he does not want to play, we'll go home and that's ok. He finally decides to go back and play. Until we get halfway there. Then he throws himself down on the floor in the middle of the corridor and starts crying again. To say I was embarrassed would be a gross understatement. I know most of the people were probably feeling bad for me instead of judging me as a failed parent. But I was so frustrated! So we head back to the locker room to get my things to go home. Then we go over to the play section so I can get his coat & our cards. Again, he flings himself on the floor in a tantrum. I walk away (still keeping both eyes on him,) thinking if I take away all attention (positive or negative) that he might snap himself out of his tantrum without an audience. Instead, he lies there for another moment, then gets himself up, walks to where I am, and proceeds to get back on the floor and continue the fit!
I was ready to string him up by his toenails! I get his coat on (while he's crying,) take his hand, and lead him outside to the car. All the while, he's racked with uncontrollable sobs (allegedly.) I put him in his carseat, he immediately stops crying, wipes his face, and yells, "I want milk, Momma!" Now, he knows how to use please and thank-you and generally does an excellent job with them. So this kind of demanding attitude is not typical. Nor was it acceptable. By this time, I was furious with him! We get home and he acts like everything is perfectly fine. I get him fed. I get him down for a nap. The whole time he's asleep, I'm trying really hard to get un-pissed at my two-year-old. But I didn't know how!
I managed to be relatively calm with him post-nap. And somehow, I managed to not spank him. (I believe in spankings when necessary. And I think today would have been very necessary. But I have also promised myself, him, and my husband that I would try really hard to never spank in anger. I would have spanked in anger today...) The afternoon did not do much to improve his demanding, jerky, or bratty behavior. But luckily, my husband came home. (I thought he was going to have to work late.) About ten minutes after he got home, my sweet husband said, "Why don't you go to a coffeehouse for a little while and take some time for yourself?" I didn't argue. I think I was out the door with a book within two minutes of the offer. When I came home, my hubby said our darling boy continued his contrary behavior but went to bed easily and early.
I can only hope there was some unseen reason for his crummy behavior that will not repeat tomorrow. I rest in knowing that a good night's sleep can (potentially) refresh both my son and me. And even if it doesn't, I took a job I can't quit. So I'll find a way to suck it up. But today was truly the lousiest, least-enjoyable day of motherhood thus far...
But I still wouldn't give it up...
It started with breakfast. He ate a few good bites of the bowl of cereal we always share. On the fourth bite, he decided to spit it out. For no (understandably good) reason. Then he asked for a slice of cheese. I gave it to him. He took a tiny nibble, pulled at it until it began to crumble all over the carpet, then wadded it up and threw it in the sink. Frustrating? You betcha! But I didn't force the issue of him eating. If he gets hungry enough, he'll eat.
So we went to the gym, as usual. He was fine with going to the gym. About 20-30 minutes into my workout, they come get me to tell me he has a dirty diaper. (They don't change diapers, which is fine.) I was surprised, since he never has a dirty diaper at the gym (and he'd already made one this morning.) But I went to get him & change him. Everything seemed fine. And then it wasn't. He started (aggressively) telling me he wanted to go swimming. I told him we couldn't today. I didn't bring our swim stuff. Maybe tomorrow. He starts crying and screaming in the locker room. I'm trying to calm him down. I'm trying to reason with him. I'm doing everything I've read in the "how to raise your kid" books. I'm asking him to stop crying and try to use his words to tell me what's wrong. He doesn't. I give him choices so he has control in his life. I offer him to go back and play or go home. I tell him either decision is fine. Neither is a punishment. He's not in trouble. What does he want to do. "I WANT TO SWIM!" And the tantrum escalates.
I again offer him choices. I tell him if he does not want to play, we'll go home and that's ok. He finally decides to go back and play. Until we get halfway there. Then he throws himself down on the floor in the middle of the corridor and starts crying again. To say I was embarrassed would be a gross understatement. I know most of the people were probably feeling bad for me instead of judging me as a failed parent. But I was so frustrated! So we head back to the locker room to get my things to go home. Then we go over to the play section so I can get his coat & our cards. Again, he flings himself on the floor in a tantrum. I walk away (still keeping both eyes on him,) thinking if I take away all attention (positive or negative) that he might snap himself out of his tantrum without an audience. Instead, he lies there for another moment, then gets himself up, walks to where I am, and proceeds to get back on the floor and continue the fit!
I was ready to string him up by his toenails! I get his coat on (while he's crying,) take his hand, and lead him outside to the car. All the while, he's racked with uncontrollable sobs (allegedly.) I put him in his carseat, he immediately stops crying, wipes his face, and yells, "I want milk, Momma!" Now, he knows how to use please and thank-you and generally does an excellent job with them. So this kind of demanding attitude is not typical. Nor was it acceptable. By this time, I was furious with him! We get home and he acts like everything is perfectly fine. I get him fed. I get him down for a nap. The whole time he's asleep, I'm trying really hard to get un-pissed at my two-year-old. But I didn't know how!
I managed to be relatively calm with him post-nap. And somehow, I managed to not spank him. (I believe in spankings when necessary. And I think today would have been very necessary. But I have also promised myself, him, and my husband that I would try really hard to never spank in anger. I would have spanked in anger today...) The afternoon did not do much to improve his demanding, jerky, or bratty behavior. But luckily, my husband came home. (I thought he was going to have to work late.) About ten minutes after he got home, my sweet husband said, "Why don't you go to a coffeehouse for a little while and take some time for yourself?" I didn't argue. I think I was out the door with a book within two minutes of the offer. When I came home, my hubby said our darling boy continued his contrary behavior but went to bed easily and early.
I can only hope there was some unseen reason for his crummy behavior that will not repeat tomorrow. I rest in knowing that a good night's sleep can (potentially) refresh both my son and me. And even if it doesn't, I took a job I can't quit. So I'll find a way to suck it up. But today was truly the lousiest, least-enjoyable day of motherhood thus far...
But I still wouldn't give it up...
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