2018 was the year I set out to read one fiction book and one non-fiction book a month. I realize that doesn't sound like much. But it didn't include the hour (plus) a day that I read aloud to my children and my penchant for reading The Atlantic and Christianity Today through from cover-to-cover. Reading is restful and rejuvenating for me personally, and in recent years I've focused SO much on what I read to my children, I forgot that I have better perspective when I'm also reading for myself.
Having said that, the most memorable reading experience of the year was reading Tolkien's The Hobbit, Fellowship of the Ring, Two Towers, and Return of the King aloud to the kids. We followed each book by watching the related Peter Jackson movie. It was my third time through the series, and my second time watching the movies. The sequential reading/viewing made it far more obvious to me where Jackson takes liberties, adding or subtracting content. While Jackson did a great job of casting, it is always Tolkien that is the master. The stories are so timeless and in taking us to another world, he shines a bright light on our own. Fellowshop of the Ring is the best Jackson adaptation, The Hobbit series, the worst. (And truly terrible in my mind, perhaps because he tried to make three movies of it.)
I read books I don't list but I highlight my top 10 (plus a bonus), five fiction, five non-fiction and one that is both.
My 2018 best of fiction:
Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
Just like My Antonia, when I finished the book, I had a little moment of "What was that about again?" not so much because of a lack of clarity, but because Cather's brilliance at creating a visual feeling, of desolation, of beauty, can overwhelm the plot. You can see the landscape, feel the wide open so clearly that it is easy (for me at least) to miss the details and get caught up in the desert plateaus and rolling hills. Having said that, this was a refreshing read about a missionary priest coming to spread the gospel in the American Southwest, and all the difficulties and human issues with which he contends.
News of the World by Paulette Jiles
I was fascinated by the synopsis of this story, having recently read of one of my ancestors who was captured and raised by Native Americans. The story of an old Civil War veteran, far from home, earning a living by reading the news who comes across a young girl that needs to be returned to her relatives. She has been raised by the natives who killed her family and the story weaves through their journey back to her home country as they both learn about love and trust. This was a beautiful story, beautifully written.
Virgil Wander by Leif Enger
I was thrilled when I read that Enger had a new novel out after ten years. (His third--read them all.) It lived up to my expectations. Virgil Wander is a middle-aged man who has recently survived a near-death experience. The story weaves through the the characters around him, as he recovers and finds renewal, even as he comes to terms with loss and welcomes a stranger. Set on the shores of Lake Superior, the northern town comes to life, and will live forever in my mind.
The Day the Angels Fell by Shawn Smucker
By far the strangest work of fiction in this list, the story is an old man reflecting on the boyhood loss of his mother and the strange world he encountered as a result. At times I hated it, but I couldn't put it down. Reaching into another world and weaving in biblical themes of real good and real evil, this is a book that will leave you thinking for a long time.
The Kalahari Typing School for Men by Alexander McCall Smith
Reading a novel whose central character is a black Botswanian woman written by a white British male is an interesting read. I loved the dialogue best of all, though the inner workings of a woman who has made it as a detective and entrepreneur in her town was also a treat.
Fiction/Non-Fiction
Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark T. Sullivan
You will find this book categorized under fiction because of the author's inability(?) to get all the details verified by external sources. However, this is almost solidly in the non-fiction camp as the riveting (and yes, nearly unbelievable) story of Pino Lella, a teenager in World War II Milan who while helping Jews escape over the Alps, also finds himself as the driver for a high-level Nazi. A story of courage amidst great drama, I had a few sleepless nights getting through this one.
Non-Fiction
The Oregon Trail: A New American Journey by Rinker Buck
I'm writing this book list this year because I saw this book on someone else's (Brianna More) list this year. While it is true that most of my books came off of someone's year-end list, this is one I never would have discovered or read had I not seen it there. I was fascinated to read a story about the Oregon Trail (again, my ancestors blazed this trail). I did not expect to get the masterful story of two very different brothers setting off in 21st century America to rediscover the past. Part history, part travelogue and a lot of psychological memoir, this is an excellent read.
Rethinking School: How to Take Charge of Your Child's Education by Susan Wise Bauer
I wrote a book review and the author tweeted it. You should read it.
Leisure: The Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper
I read this book too fast and immediately put it in the category of must-read again, preferably every other year. Small, but deep and meaningful, Pieper points that civilizations have advanced when leisure is treated as necessary work. Leisure is not lazy. Time for contemplation and a cease from labor are absolutely necessary to growth, as a person and as a culture.
The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place by Andy Crouch
I plan to write a real review of this short, data-heavy, simple but so very important little book. Crouch has done us a favor by putting together realistic and insightful steps to being wise in a technology-driven world. I instantly implemented one step and it has contributed to more peace and reflection. Simple discussions with our kids have revealed a lot and encouraged us to keep moving to implement more and more changes.
The Soul of America: The Battle for our Better Angels by Jon Meacham
Meacham is a great writer and this synopsis is a reminder of how the battle between good and evil (though he doesn't put it in those terms) has been ongoing in 200 years of US history. The title of this book is so good, I was a little disappointed in the content. But the book does deliver as he focuses on the battle and the triumph of the better angels; he leaves us asking if the better angels will win the current battle? A necessary and good reminder at this juncture. He is best when he is telling a story and I hope to read his biography of George HW Bush. The snippets I have read suggest that by knowing the man, his work is even better.
Showing posts with label This and That. Show all posts
Showing posts with label This and That. Show all posts
Friday, January 04, 2019
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Make Your Last Words Count
I've come to expect to be a little morose in June. It is a tough month for me and for my family. Some years I seem a little lighter; this year, I was hit with grief like brick during the Gospel reading about the resurrection of the Widow of Nain's son. I often feel twinges here and there. I can't see this picture of my cousins and me without a reminder one of us is missing. But this was all-out weeping, embarrassing-myself-in-a-public-place grief. I could not stop it.
I have realized anew with forceful strength this year that untimely death is not something you experience once. This kind of loss it is a continual loss. I lose her again at every family reunion, any time I read about violence in the news, anytime I need someone to pray with me for a family member or laugh or cry with me. I see a Yorkshire Terrier (she owned one) and I feel that loss, needlepoint and Disney characters (especially Goofy and I don't why) and I feel her loss. Sometimes I go days, even weeks, or months without feeling it, and then BAM! I'm leveled with a sense that she should be my age, living life on this planet somewhere, and this was NOT what was supposed to happen.
And with this month of sorrow, I found her card in a box of my things. I sat and cried for awhile and then I reflected a little. What a gift to give me, to tell me she was proud of me. There is all kinds of history behind those words, years of competition. She knew my hard work and struggle to get to that moment. And she acknowledged it.
Never fail to say, write, text or Facebook words of support, encouragement, and love to the people in your life who mean the most. Someday those words will be your last. And you will go down in their hearts for what you said to them. When they are sad, they will reflect and yes, miss you. But they will be grateful that you were in their world. And you said what they needed to hear.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Little Triumphs Among the Failures
I had BIG hopes for this summer. I always have big hopes. And that is the triumph of hope over pessimism in me.
My husband always urges me to only project doing what I can actually accomplish. But where is the challenge in that?
This summer I set out with a number of goals for the family. Among them was teaching the older two to make a meal each week. This would take methodical instruction in different cooking methods. I had the book, I had the drive. We would work on breakfast,lunch, desserts, dinner. But while my time became more and more limited, my son took up my passion and sought new instructors.
We have also worked for the past several summers on teaching Ben
to ride a bike. (I use "we" in the sense of our marital union; we being
the other half of me.) He has stubbornly resisted. This year did not
start out promisingly with Ben declaring as usual that accidents happen
on bikes and there is no need to be able to ride one. But a trip to
Mackinac Island in May where bikes are the norm of transportation (the
alternative being horses and feet) and a decision to come back in July
and bike the island, did the trick. Once he decided it was a worthy
reason, he learned in no time, and in our elation, his dad took him to
"look" at bikes. And came home with a new one. He biked 8 miles without
incident on our trip to the Island.
My last goal, to teach the kids to do more chores, feels like it has stalled. They did work on learning to clean the bathrooms with me early on, and Kyrie took on some of the weeding yesterday to earn a little money. It turns out Evie loves to husk corn. But the basement is still a pit and the girls room is actually starting to smell a little and it has me feeling a little stymied. But still there is the bathroom.
So maybe all my expectations weren't met. I still call this summer:
My husband always urges me to only project doing what I can actually accomplish. But where is the challenge in that?
This summer I set out with a number of goals for the family. Among them was teaching the older two to make a meal each week. This would take methodical instruction in different cooking methods. I had the book, I had the drive. We would work on breakfast,
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| Add caption |
My last goal, to teach the kids to do more chores, feels like it has stalled. They did work on learning to clean the bathrooms with me early on, and Kyrie took on some of the weeding yesterday to earn a little money. It turns out Evie loves to husk corn. But the basement is still a pit and the girls room is actually starting to smell a little and it has me feeling a little stymied. But still there is the bathroom. So maybe all my expectations weren't met. I still call this summer:
The Triumph of Hope.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Curriculum Reviews: 2nd grade
Let me preface this post by saying that my second born 2nd grader is amazing. She has the biggest heart, is a diligent and hard worker and comes up with new talents all the time that leave me speechless. Today she went to the Memorial service of my parents' neighbor. She wrote on the calendar "Momerel-Jean" and let me know she would be attending. She taught herself to use chopsticks, a skill I cannot master. She was still a toddler when I found her scrubbing the tub. She is not lazy, she is very intelligent, and her learning style is where she vastly differs from me. I have to slow up from time to time from my agenda and figure out what we need to do differently with her. This means her schedule looks vastly different from Ben's.
Here is what 2nd grade looked like for her:
History/Literature: We started off with Story of the World Vol 1 this year. I knew it would be too much for her last year. This year had difficult moments. She has a far harder time absorbing material auditorially than either of her siblings. Sometimes we re-read the lesson two and even three times. I made her read certain sections to me because I can see she comprehends information better when she sees it. She is visual. Like me. I was at my wit's end when I randomly asked her what her favorite subject was and she answered "History." So now I try to have more patience with her and give her time to absorb all the extra reading before I decide it is a lost cause. She latches on to the "story" aspect. She is not as dutiful as others about doing things she doesn't care about so I routinely get "I don't want to color that picture." I'm learning to work with that. We do read 75-80% of the literature and history suggestions and about 25% of the activities.
Grammar & Spelling: I used First Language Lessons Level 2 with great success. I appreciate that these lessons are quick, don't require much prep, and the basics are nailed down solidly. We also used Spelling Workout Level A & B with great success. She is a solid reader and recently read aloud at church reminding me of how much she has learned. I have her read to me aloud her spelling lesson page for reading practice. We often read stories and take different characters in the reading; Ben-males and her females, while I narrate. It is good practice all the way around.
Math: Like Ben, she loves Horizons Math. I think their early grades shine and she has learned some big concepts. She loves to negotiate how many problems she does and checks off each section when she is done. She has a strong sense of deliberateness and record-keeping. I'm excited to see where that goes.
Handwriting: She used Zaner-Bloser but she is a natural. She loves to write notes: letters, to-do lists, journals. She works at handwriting and this was easy to accomplish.
Art/Music: We started piano lessons, something she diligently tackles and loves. She loves listening to music, and is my child who walks around with headphones in her ears and has a radio on in her room. She was thrilled when we went to the symphony and her piano teacher gave us tickets to the see The Moxie Strings. She decided then she wanted to be a professional musician. She jumped in on Ben's music appreciation. She chose to do Little Annie's Art Book and she is very good at following instructions and working to achieve her artistic goals. I bought coloring books of the composers by Bellerophon. These were a disaster. The pictures are boring to color and the biographical information is written for adults. They look dull, they are dull, and they often cover unnecessary information (syphilis, etc...).
Logic: We are huge fans of Mind Benders and Kyrie patiently worked with Evie on Book 1 this year. She has Book 2 to finish and will do so at the end of the year.
Science: She is involved in biology experiments with her older brother and takes nature classes at the nearby reserve several times a month. She participates in her brother's Bible course, participating in the memory work and listening to the Bible reading and text.
Kyrie has a natural ability to be well-rounded, something that is not a strength of either her mom or older sibling. She is most likely to get outside and ride her bike, loves every sport she tries, wants be involved with people, and pushes us to leave the house. Second grade was finding the balance between helping her to find ways to focus and complete her work and recognizing that her needs were good ones and need to be incorporated into our life.
Here is what 2nd grade looked like for her:
History/Literature: We started off with Story of the World Vol 1 this year. I knew it would be too much for her last year. This year had difficult moments. She has a far harder time absorbing material auditorially than either of her siblings. Sometimes we re-read the lesson two and even three times. I made her read certain sections to me because I can see she comprehends information better when she sees it. She is visual. Like me. I was at my wit's end when I randomly asked her what her favorite subject was and she answered "History." So now I try to have more patience with her and give her time to absorb all the extra reading before I decide it is a lost cause. She latches on to the "story" aspect. She is not as dutiful as others about doing things she doesn't care about so I routinely get "I don't want to color that picture." I'm learning to work with that. We do read 75-80% of the literature and history suggestions and about 25% of the activities.
Grammar & Spelling: I used First Language Lessons Level 2 with great success. I appreciate that these lessons are quick, don't require much prep, and the basics are nailed down solidly. We also used Spelling Workout Level A & B with great success. She is a solid reader and recently read aloud at church reminding me of how much she has learned. I have her read to me aloud her spelling lesson page for reading practice. We often read stories and take different characters in the reading; Ben-males and her females, while I narrate. It is good practice all the way around.
Math: Like Ben, she loves Horizons Math. I think their early grades shine and she has learned some big concepts. She loves to negotiate how many problems she does and checks off each section when she is done. She has a strong sense of deliberateness and record-keeping. I'm excited to see where that goes.
Handwriting: She used Zaner-Bloser but she is a natural. She loves to write notes: letters, to-do lists, journals. She works at handwriting and this was easy to accomplish.
Art/Music: We started piano lessons, something she diligently tackles and loves. She loves listening to music, and is my child who walks around with headphones in her ears and has a radio on in her room. She was thrilled when we went to the symphony and her piano teacher gave us tickets to the see The Moxie Strings. She decided then she wanted to be a professional musician. She jumped in on Ben's music appreciation. She chose to do Little Annie's Art Book and she is very good at following instructions and working to achieve her artistic goals. I bought coloring books of the composers by Bellerophon. These were a disaster. The pictures are boring to color and the biographical information is written for adults. They look dull, they are dull, and they often cover unnecessary information (syphilis, etc...).
Logic: We are huge fans of Mind Benders and Kyrie patiently worked with Evie on Book 1 this year. She has Book 2 to finish and will do so at the end of the year.
Science: She is involved in biology experiments with her older brother and takes nature classes at the nearby reserve several times a month. She participates in her brother's Bible course, participating in the memory work and listening to the Bible reading and text.
 | |
| Trying to teach us to use chopsticks. |
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| She wants to learn violin and had the chance to try it at an instrument petting zoo. |
Sunday, February 08, 2015
Parenthood (The Show)
(Spoiler alert): I will try to not give the show away, but I might say something you didn't know so if you haven't watched the whole thing, STOP, and do so before you go any further.
Six years ago I started on a journey with the fictional Braverman family of Berkeley, California. We had little in common. They were liberal agnostics and I...well, I am decidedly neither.
There were times in the past years when I wanted to smack the writers (or characters) upside the head and I might have yelled at the screen a few times. But, for the most part, I loved this crazy family, a mom and pop, their four grown up (theoretically) children, and all of the offspring's offspring. The acting was superb, and the writing, true-to-life, right down to nailing birth order traits with a few anomalies (really, Julia is the youngest?).
Along the way we covered marriage, adultery, divorce, birth, adoption, abortion, homosexuality, charter schools, homeschooling, Asperger's, business failures, health issues, and a host of other issues. And were pretty true to the issues. Abortion and all its ugly consequences....Nothing pretty about that story. Adoption, its challenges and its heart. Divorce and its massive affects on kids and their future relationships. Nothing gets prettified to make you feel better about life failure.
The oldest, working so hard to keep it all together and do the right thing. The middle children, muddled and unable to make good relational choices for much of the show, finally growing up and taking big steps. The perfect child who had it all together, falling apart and left to pick herself up out of the mess she helped create.
But through it all....LOVE. Real conflicts, real pain, and still this family keeps loving each other. They model forgiveness in fantastic ways at times, leaving me teary and convicted to be different.
In a brutally honest way we watch a marriage virtually fall apart in front of us as we are screaming, NOOO!!! And then, little glimmers of hope, little rays of promise as two people decide to open up to love, to forgiveness, as they decide to be steadfast. The writers were true to the pain, to the time, to the issues.
In the series finale, the last fifteen minutes ended with a death and then flashes of the family in the future, going on with life, birthing and adopting more babies, affirming life and love.
I grew a little with the Bravermans. I hope I love a little better, forgive a little faster.
Six years ago I started on a journey with the fictional Braverman family of Berkeley, California. We had little in common. They were liberal agnostics and I...well, I am decidedly neither.
There were times in the past years when I wanted to smack the writers (or characters) upside the head and I might have yelled at the screen a few times. But, for the most part, I loved this crazy family, a mom and pop, their four grown up (theoretically) children, and all of the offspring's offspring. The acting was superb, and the writing, true-to-life, right down to nailing birth order traits with a few anomalies (really, Julia is the youngest?).
Along the way we covered marriage, adultery, divorce, birth, adoption, abortion, homosexuality, charter schools, homeschooling, Asperger's, business failures, health issues, and a host of other issues. And were pretty true to the issues. Abortion and all its ugly consequences....Nothing pretty about that story. Adoption, its challenges and its heart. Divorce and its massive affects on kids and their future relationships. Nothing gets prettified to make you feel better about life failure.
The oldest, working so hard to keep it all together and do the right thing. The middle children, muddled and unable to make good relational choices for much of the show, finally growing up and taking big steps. The perfect child who had it all together, falling apart and left to pick herself up out of the mess she helped create.
But through it all....LOVE. Real conflicts, real pain, and still this family keeps loving each other. They model forgiveness in fantastic ways at times, leaving me teary and convicted to be different.
In a brutally honest way we watch a marriage virtually fall apart in front of us as we are screaming, NOOO!!! And then, little glimmers of hope, little rays of promise as two people decide to open up to love, to forgiveness, as they decide to be steadfast. The writers were true to the pain, to the time, to the issues.
In the series finale, the last fifteen minutes ended with a death and then flashes of the family in the future, going on with life, birthing and adopting more babies, affirming life and love.
I grew a little with the Bravermans. I hope I love a little better, forgive a little faster.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Parenting with Pete Carroll
I love Football. I love the Seahawks. So I was listening to the press wax on about the turnaround the Seahawks experienced mid-season that took them to the NFC Championship Game this Sunday. News outlets report that after their devastating loss to Kansas City, Coach Pete Carroll called his team leaders together and said, "You have to play for each other." Playing as a "team" something the Hawks were doing, wasn't enough. They had to play for each other.
I started thinking about the parenting issues I'm struggling with right now."That's not mine. That's hers" is a refrain I hear a lot when I complain a storm-devastated bedroom that I cry upon entering. Various things pile around the house because "that's not my job." Sure, I don't want one kid doing all the work for the lazy ones. But, I rethought all that when I heard Pete Carroll's rallying cry. Maybe, they need the chance to develop the character each will gain when they do someone else's "job."
So tonight I gathered my chicks around the dinner table. The Main Man is out of town and so we had coconut-crusted chicken fingers and root vegetable fries (hey, they ate PARSNIPS!) and we had a little team meeting and talked about "playing for each other." Blank stares. The boy engaged at least; as long as we talked in theory. Seahawks. He is, to be fair, the least inclined to scream "It's NOT my fault."
When all was said and done, I'm still not too sure this is going to rock our selfish-dynamic into oblivion. But it is a start. And an hour of TV time, since Daddy is gone and I have to think.
I started thinking about the parenting issues I'm struggling with right now."That's not mine. That's hers" is a refrain I hear a lot when I complain a storm-devastated bedroom that I cry upon entering. Various things pile around the house because "that's not my job." Sure, I don't want one kid doing all the work for the lazy ones. But, I rethought all that when I heard Pete Carroll's rallying cry. Maybe, they need the chance to develop the character each will gain when they do someone else's "job."
So tonight I gathered my chicks around the dinner table. The Main Man is out of town and so we had coconut-crusted chicken fingers and root vegetable fries (hey, they ate PARSNIPS!) and we had a little team meeting and talked about "playing for each other." Blank stares. The boy engaged at least; as long as we talked in theory. Seahawks. He is, to be fair, the least inclined to scream "It's NOT my fault."
When all was said and done, I'm still not too sure this is going to rock our selfish-dynamic into oblivion. But it is a start. And an hour of TV time, since Daddy is gone and I have to think.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
The Introverted Parent
I guard the edges of my day. Guard them. Like a bulldog.
I am blessed to have a husband who helps with the night edges (while guarding his own edges). My children have learned that their mornings can be relatively mama-free if they play their cards right and we are all happy. Usually.
Today Evie woke up and wanted breakfast early. It was the weekend, a time I normally get help. I let her know. Hey, it's Saturday and it's early. You can play quietly for awhile and I will get up in a little bit.
It isn't just about sleep. It is about the quiet and alone time with which I gird myself before...spending time with the people I love most in the world.
Often Kyrie will enter my room tentatively and ask "Mom, have you had your quiet time yet?" Because God forbid, she has learned that I'm a much nicer mama if I have.
A tumultuous couple of days led me to realize how introverted two of my children were. We had three extra kids for five hours and Ben came to me and asked "How much longer will they be here?" They are great kids and my kids love them. But Ben's people minutes were up. Evie is the same and recently I've noted that her conflicts with Kyrie seem to arise when she hasn't been able to be alone for awhile.
I spoke to Kyrie this week as she wept. She was people-needy and had gone from me, to Evie, to Ben and been rejected by all of us. She couldn't get it. She wanted to interact. We all wanted to retreat. I finally took her aside and explained introverts and extroverts and then broke it to her that she was the only extrovert among us. She was the one who wanted to play with the neighbor kids EVERY day. She typically answers the phone. She can't get enough of outings. She cried harder and said, "What's wrong with me?" And I explained to her that it was RIGHT. That I needed one person who was happy when the doorbell rang and cared that the phone was ringing. I thanked her for helping me handle these things that are so difficult for me.
A few days later I'm wondering why I couldn't have had this conversation with her much earlier. She has approached me differently since then, respecting my space and asking if she could be with me. I have also noted that she hates to be alone when she is working on something. I've put her next to me while she does her math, an activity that I preferred to work alone on. She does much better with me right there even if I'm doing something else and just checking on her and touching her from time to time.
Today Everleigh was near hysteria and I quietly said, "Kyrie, she needs to be alone. Give her some space." Kyrie backed off and was amazed at the result. A little time alone and Ev was ready to be with her sister again and re-engage with the world.
There is so much navigating to do here. Introverts have to learn to live outside their comfort zones and extroverts need to learn to be alone. And introverted mamas have to get up with infants and toddlers in the brand-new morning and they have to put them to bed at night too. I'm grateful to be in a season where there is the option to say "You must wait." I wish I had known this day would come when I thought I couldn't survive those all-consuming years.
But right now I'm thankful for a child, so very different than me, and for the understanding that has happened for both us recently that have made us both appreciate the other in whole new ways.
I am blessed to have a husband who helps with the night edges (while guarding his own edges). My children have learned that their mornings can be relatively mama-free if they play their cards right and we are all happy. Usually.
Today Evie woke up and wanted breakfast early. It was the weekend, a time I normally get help. I let her know. Hey, it's Saturday and it's early. You can play quietly for awhile and I will get up in a little bit.
It isn't just about sleep. It is about the quiet and alone time with which I gird myself before...spending time with the people I love most in the world.
Often Kyrie will enter my room tentatively and ask "Mom, have you had your quiet time yet?" Because God forbid, she has learned that I'm a much nicer mama if I have.
A tumultuous couple of days led me to realize how introverted two of my children were. We had three extra kids for five hours and Ben came to me and asked "How much longer will they be here?" They are great kids and my kids love them. But Ben's people minutes were up. Evie is the same and recently I've noted that her conflicts with Kyrie seem to arise when she hasn't been able to be alone for awhile.
I spoke to Kyrie this week as she wept. She was people-needy and had gone from me, to Evie, to Ben and been rejected by all of us. She couldn't get it. She wanted to interact. We all wanted to retreat. I finally took her aside and explained introverts and extroverts and then broke it to her that she was the only extrovert among us. She was the one who wanted to play with the neighbor kids EVERY day. She typically answers the phone. She can't get enough of outings. She cried harder and said, "What's wrong with me?" And I explained to her that it was RIGHT. That I needed one person who was happy when the doorbell rang and cared that the phone was ringing. I thanked her for helping me handle these things that are so difficult for me.
A few days later I'm wondering why I couldn't have had this conversation with her much earlier. She has approached me differently since then, respecting my space and asking if she could be with me. I have also noted that she hates to be alone when she is working on something. I've put her next to me while she does her math, an activity that I preferred to work alone on. She does much better with me right there even if I'm doing something else and just checking on her and touching her from time to time.
Today Everleigh was near hysteria and I quietly said, "Kyrie, she needs to be alone. Give her some space." Kyrie backed off and was amazed at the result. A little time alone and Ev was ready to be with her sister again and re-engage with the world.
There is so much navigating to do here. Introverts have to learn to live outside their comfort zones and extroverts need to learn to be alone. And introverted mamas have to get up with infants and toddlers in the brand-new morning and they have to put them to bed at night too. I'm grateful to be in a season where there is the option to say "You must wait." I wish I had known this day would come when I thought I couldn't survive those all-consuming years.
But right now I'm thankful for a child, so very different than me, and for the understanding that has happened for both us recently that have made us both appreciate the other in whole new ways.
Saturday, May 03, 2014
One Hour to Sit Still
For the past month, I have been the T.A. in an algebra class at a homeschool co-op. There are five students, a teacher, and me. Doing nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Ok, every once in a while I am the subject of a story problem. And amusingly, the teacher (maybe a decade older than me) thought I was a student the first day, stoking my ego, a little bit. But I am there not to assist, really, but for liability reasons.
So I sit. In the back. Doing nothing.
I have my phone and yes, I have submitted to the temptation of checking Facebook on it. Ben is concurrently in a computer coding class so he has my laptop. And I am trying to not be a distraction so try to behave myself on the phone and wouldn't have my laptop anyway.
All of which has led me to this. I am not really sure how to sit for an hour and do nothing.
The last two weeks have been full of suffering and death and this hour gives me time to pray. Sit-still prayer not really being my specialty. I'm a prayer tosser. I fling prayers toward the sky and rarely sit back to listen these days.
This week I snuck a journal into the class disguised in a notebook. I did journal two pages, the second entry in the journal; the first page written over a year ago.
Until this experience I didn't realize how little time I spend in quiet reflection. I do spend time every day and I knew I wasn't giving the contemplative mystics any competition but I thought I could do it, "if only I had time." This hour has shown me a huge deficit in my ability to sit still, devoid of all distractions save five silly, math-challenged adolescents. I am brought back to my lack of concentrated time in prayer.
I could blame our fast-paced, electronic-ridden, distracted society. But the truth is....It's just me.
Ok, every once in a while I am the subject of a story problem. And amusingly, the teacher (maybe a decade older than me) thought I was a student the first day, stoking my ego, a little bit. But I am there not to assist, really, but for liability reasons.
So I sit. In the back. Doing nothing.
I have my phone and yes, I have submitted to the temptation of checking Facebook on it. Ben is concurrently in a computer coding class so he has my laptop. And I am trying to not be a distraction so try to behave myself on the phone and wouldn't have my laptop anyway.
All of which has led me to this. I am not really sure how to sit for an hour and do nothing.
The last two weeks have been full of suffering and death and this hour gives me time to pray. Sit-still prayer not really being my specialty. I'm a prayer tosser. I fling prayers toward the sky and rarely sit back to listen these days.
This week I snuck a journal into the class disguised in a notebook. I did journal two pages, the second entry in the journal; the first page written over a year ago.
Until this experience I didn't realize how little time I spend in quiet reflection. I do spend time every day and I knew I wasn't giving the contemplative mystics any competition but I thought I could do it, "if only I had time." This hour has shown me a huge deficit in my ability to sit still, devoid of all distractions save five silly, math-challenged adolescents. I am brought back to my lack of concentrated time in prayer.
I could blame our fast-paced, electronic-ridden, distracted society. But the truth is....It's just me.
Wednesday, April 09, 2014
Spring Break
I wasn't planning to take a Spring Break this year until friends from Washington, the Bantas, asked if they could come out. We joyfully changed our mind and by the time the week arrived, we were so ready. Ben asked how we were going to get our school done with all we had planned and pure shock crossed his face when I said "no school." We had a great week! Here is a little of what we did:
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| It was really warm...30s. |
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| This is walking on Lake Michigan |
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| An offshore lighthouse we walked to |
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| Cliff & Rachael Banta with Kyrie |
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| Family shot at Old Mission Lighthouse (yes, we are standing at the top of the gate and taller than the arch) |
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| Someone made a snowman by Lake Michigan |
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| Evie at CoAmerica Field |
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| Our view of the field |
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| The Henry Ford Museum (Wright Bros. plane model) |
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| Riding the Model-T |
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| Riding a Tiger at CoAmerica Field |
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| Cheering on the Tigers with Cliff |
Saturday, February 22, 2014
A Siberian Winter
It started snowing at Thanksgiving, and started snowing in earnest within a week or two. I haven't seen the ground since mid-December. BUT, lest you think I'm complaining, I have seen the sun. All is well.
Last weekend our furnace went out. It happened that it was a particularly cold spell with temps below zero and I was nervous. I was pleasantly surprised when after two and a half days without a working furnace, a new one was put in. But in the meantime, we functioned pretty well with a 24/7 wood fire in the fireplace (we had a sheet over the opening to the room) and a couple of space heaters.
One of my children daily asks "How long until summer?" It may be that she decides Florida is more her speed some day. I will be ready for summer, but I kind of love the hibernation of winter. We stay in, we watch movies and eat popcorn with a roaring fire, we read together and get a little more sleep. And I prefer sweaters to shorts. Especially in middle age.
February is coming to a close. I heard drip, drip, dripping this week and stepped out into puddles instead of drifts. The snow will probably stick around another month or so. I'll be ready to see it go. But I do love winter.
Last weekend our furnace went out. It happened that it was a particularly cold spell with temps below zero and I was nervous. I was pleasantly surprised when after two and a half days without a working furnace, a new one was put in. But in the meantime, we functioned pretty well with a 24/7 wood fire in the fireplace (we had a sheet over the opening to the room) and a couple of space heaters.
One of my children daily asks "How long until summer?" It may be that she decides Florida is more her speed some day. I will be ready for summer, but I kind of love the hibernation of winter. We stay in, we watch movies and eat popcorn with a roaring fire, we read together and get a little more sleep. And I prefer sweaters to shorts. Especially in middle age.
February is coming to a close. I heard drip, drip, dripping this week and stepped out into puddles instead of drifts. The snow will probably stick around another month or so. I'll be ready to see it go. But I do love winter.
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Art Galleries and Math Problems
Yesterday I sat with Kyrie repeatedly trying to explain a math concept. "You're not the best teacher," she finally said. "But you aren't terrible." Fortunately, I am not her only teacher and I ran through other prospective teachers: Dad, Grandpa, Grammy, Ben? The last time we were stuck, I had to take a trip and when I came back I was told Grandpa had made a break through. Whew.
There are these days when I just push through and wonder how much more. And then we hit the highlights. The light bulb goes on, the a-ha breaks forth.
Ben started an art gallery in our basement. It was all his idea and his sisters are both willing curators and contributors, proud of their walls. I stand back in amazement. They are all three thinking more about art than I did until college.
I'm not a great teacher. Teaching someone to read this year has been hard. Hard. I do not want to teach your kids to read. I am not going to agonize over math problems with the neighbor kids. I don't have those gifts. I never wanted to read and understand the difference between whole to parts or parts to whole, and I could have lived a full life without knowing what the spiral method involves.
These are my kids. I want the best for them. I've been intensely studying these children since they were born (and before). At least once a year, I consider how my life would be simpler if I put one or two of them into school. So far, I keep coming back to this: The education we can give them here at home (using some outside resources) is still superior to anything we could afford elsewhere. We can maximize their academic gains while still allowing them time to play and be children better than any of the other options available to us.
So there are some tough days. I am not always the best teacher. But when I hear Everleigh say, "Ben, will do you my school?" I have to relax. Education is a shared load around here. And I have some great help.
There are these days when I just push through and wonder how much more. And then we hit the highlights. The light bulb goes on, the a-ha breaks forth.
Ben started an art gallery in our basement. It was all his idea and his sisters are both willing curators and contributors, proud of their walls. I stand back in amazement. They are all three thinking more about art than I did until college.
I'm not a great teacher. Teaching someone to read this year has been hard. Hard. I do not want to teach your kids to read. I am not going to agonize over math problems with the neighbor kids. I don't have those gifts. I never wanted to read and understand the difference between whole to parts or parts to whole, and I could have lived a full life without knowing what the spiral method involves.
These are my kids. I want the best for them. I've been intensely studying these children since they were born (and before). At least once a year, I consider how my life would be simpler if I put one or two of them into school. So far, I keep coming back to this: The education we can give them here at home (using some outside resources) is still superior to anything we could afford elsewhere. We can maximize their academic gains while still allowing them time to play and be children better than any of the other options available to us.
So there are some tough days. I am not always the best teacher. But when I hear Everleigh say, "Ben, will do you my school?" I have to relax. Education is a shared load around here. And I have some great help.
Monday, September 02, 2013
Bye-Bye Summer!
Tomorrow school starts back up. Usually I feel like the summer has flown and I'm not ready. But I think I'm ready this time. We had a full, amazing, productive summer.
I achieved all but one of my (realistic) summer goals. We won't mention the unrealistic ones.
So tomorrow, we get back into the routine of school. I'm not sure how I'll manage it all, but I never am. And somehow it all works out.
I achieved all but one of my (realistic) summer goals. We won't mention the unrealistic ones.
- We traveled. A lot.
- All three kids made progress with swimming.
- One child is 90% of the way to riding a bike without training wheels, another is about 40% there.
- All of the rooms were cleaned with toy pieces reconnected to the appropriate container, all books returned to the bookshelves, and the basement even cleaned and vacuumed.
- Too small clothes have been removed, the next season's clothes are ready.
- The kids' picked up new chores. Ben graduated from taking out the trash and recycling to helping with dinner, folding laundry, and starting a load now and then. Kyrie and Ev are handling the trash together.
- We did some cooking together. The kids made: waffles, eggs, homemade mac'n'cheese, cookies, and a few other dishes they each chose.
- The school pantry was cleaned and organized as well as the desk.
So tomorrow, we get back into the routine of school. I'm not sure how I'll manage it all, but I never am. And somehow it all works out.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
American Girl - And my girls
I despise trendiness. Hate it. Never watched Star Wars, haven't read Harry Potter, won't allow Barbie in my house. And I've tried my best to keep Disney princesses out.
This goes back to a little anti-establishment sentiment from being part of a upper-middleclass youth group where certain brands were all the rage while standing decisively outside of it and realizing that you weren't a more complete person because you had a Swatch watch. I went off to my southern California campus with not one, but two pairs of decisively not "in" purple corduroys from Goodwill. I'm quite certain I was known to some as "the girl with the purple pants."
I thoroughly and completely hope that my kids will all stand independently above the need to acquire things simply to achieve a certain status.
And so now we come to it. American Girl. Thoroughly the rage among my friends and their girls. And thus, I have been utterly resistant. First, the trendiness, as stated above. Second, the costliness. I am a big believer in not giving kids expensive things. Because kids just ruin things. Our furniture stands as a prime example. Third, I am not a big fan of dolls. I had a few in my day. I primarily liked naming them and then changed their clothes a few times and then they sat. So I haven't been big on the idea of American Girl.
But over the course of the last year, a few things have influenced my thinking. First, we have read several American Girl books (beyond the stories, historical supplemental material is available as well) as part of our history curriculum. They are well-written, accurate, respectful, and engaging. Even Ben loves these stories Second, I have come to recognize that quality in ideas and workmanship should be rewarded. Quality and trendy often go together but not always. In this instance, I've come to recognize the benefits of high quality toys for my children, just as I recognize them in footwear and jeans for myself. And my girls love dolls. Particularly Kyrie, who though she is spotty with consistent care (as she should be at 6), will go for hours rocking, feeding, changing, and having "conversations" with her dolls.
Lastly, I want to both encourage that nurturing instinct and put it into a context where she sees a doll not just as a "baby" and herself as its "mother" but she sees the doll as a friend, a person, with a story. These dolls have history; they were "born" into a certain time and place and their lives intersect with great happenings all around them. They represent real people, real girls, who within the framework of their culture, achieved all they could. It is a delicate balance, to uphold motherhood as something real and good and to be desired, while at the same time, teaching our daughters that they are women who can live full and productive lives, with or without bearing a child. American Girl gives them the opportunity to be little girls who dress, talk to, feed and play with dolls, while not having to be the mommy to that doll. They will always have the opportunity to be a friend, to nurture and help another. We want them to develop their skillfulness in that and find the joy in it.
So, while we haven't yet made this big purchase, it is coming. We are preparing. And I have come to terms with being part of the American Girl trend. Sometimes, the culture gets it right.
This goes back to a little anti-establishment sentiment from being part of a upper-middleclass youth group where certain brands were all the rage while standing decisively outside of it and realizing that you weren't a more complete person because you had a Swatch watch. I went off to my southern California campus with not one, but two pairs of decisively not "in" purple corduroys from Goodwill. I'm quite certain I was known to some as "the girl with the purple pants."
I thoroughly and completely hope that my kids will all stand independently above the need to acquire things simply to achieve a certain status.
And so now we come to it. American Girl. Thoroughly the rage among my friends and their girls. And thus, I have been utterly resistant. First, the trendiness, as stated above. Second, the costliness. I am a big believer in not giving kids expensive things. Because kids just ruin things. Our furniture stands as a prime example. Third, I am not a big fan of dolls. I had a few in my day. I primarily liked naming them and then changed their clothes a few times and then they sat. So I haven't been big on the idea of American Girl.
But over the course of the last year, a few things have influenced my thinking. First, we have read several American Girl books (beyond the stories, historical supplemental material is available as well) as part of our history curriculum. They are well-written, accurate, respectful, and engaging. Even Ben loves these stories Second, I have come to recognize that quality in ideas and workmanship should be rewarded. Quality and trendy often go together but not always. In this instance, I've come to recognize the benefits of high quality toys for my children, just as I recognize them in footwear and jeans for myself. And my girls love dolls. Particularly Kyrie, who though she is spotty with consistent care (as she should be at 6), will go for hours rocking, feeding, changing, and having "conversations" with her dolls.
Lastly, I want to both encourage that nurturing instinct and put it into a context where she sees a doll not just as a "baby" and herself as its "mother" but she sees the doll as a friend, a person, with a story. These dolls have history; they were "born" into a certain time and place and their lives intersect with great happenings all around them. They represent real people, real girls, who within the framework of their culture, achieved all they could. It is a delicate balance, to uphold motherhood as something real and good and to be desired, while at the same time, teaching our daughters that they are women who can live full and productive lives, with or without bearing a child. American Girl gives them the opportunity to be little girls who dress, talk to, feed and play with dolls, while not having to be the mommy to that doll. They will always have the opportunity to be a friend, to nurture and help another. We want them to develop their skillfulness in that and find the joy in it.
So, while we haven't yet made this big purchase, it is coming. We are preparing. And I have come to terms with being part of the American Girl trend. Sometimes, the culture gets it right.
Monday, June 03, 2013
Birth Order Matters
Back in high school, I stumbled across a book on birth order by Dr. Kevin Leman. I was absolutely fascinated. I so identified with the descriptors attached to first-born children and this helped me feel better about the ways I was so distinctly different from the rest of my family. I was quite determined for a while to make a good birth order match (which would have made my mate a baby in his family, ideally, or a middle child). That didn't happen (gratefully) and now my firstborn husband and I sometimes struggle to understand the non-firstborns in our families.
Last week, I read Why Birth Order Matters and watched elements of it play out.
On Friday, I heard Ben carefully describing how one was supposed to accomplish a certain task to Kyrie. He laid it out diligently. She promptly started with "You don't have to do it that way."
"Yes, you do, Kyrie." And the tension began to escalate.
I took the opportunity to explain to her that her brother and her parents love rules, love black and white. She looked at me like I was from another planet.
This description could not be more perfect for the three firstborns in our family:
I know my kids aren't tied to these things and that there are always exceptions. (Kevin Leman is always mindful to point this out.) But this article gave renewed focus to my parenting and relieved a little of the guilt I have in always seeing the perspective of one of my children better than the others. I have to work a little harder. I particularly am focused on remembering that sometimes Kyrie is right; there is more than one way to skin a cat. And I have to be more diligent to make sure our little charmer grows up learning to pull her weight.
Lastly, Mike and I were both raised by a middle-born and last-born parent. Remembering that helps us understand why we are both more conventional than our parents and sometimes wish they were more interested in "following the rules." Hopefully, because we were raised by parents not of our birth order, we are more flexible and accommodating. Ben, however, may be a lost cause. (Smile.)
Last week, I read Why Birth Order Matters and watched elements of it play out.
On Friday, I heard Ben carefully describing how one was supposed to accomplish a certain task to Kyrie. He laid it out diligently. She promptly started with "You don't have to do it that way."
"Yes, you do, Kyrie." And the tension began to escalate.
I took the opportunity to explain to her that her brother and her parents love rules, love black and white. She looked at me like I was from another planet.
This description could not be more perfect for the three firstborns in our family:
Reliable and conscientious, they tend to be list makers and black-and-white thinkers. They have a keen sense of right and wrong and believe there is a right way to do things. They are natural leaders and achievement-oriented.My middleborn completely fits this descriptor with the exception of the last phrase. Negotiator, yes. Peace, not so much.
They're the hardest to pin down of all the birth orders, but they'll be the opposite of the child above them in the family. If the firstborn is very conventional, the second will be unconventional. Middle children walk to the beat of a different drummer. They are competitive, loyal and big on friendships. The middle child of the family is often the negotiator who tries to keep the peace.And then our baby:
These social, outgoing creatures have never met a stranger. They are uncomplicated, spontaneous, humorous and high on people skills. To them, life's a party. They're the child in the family who is most likely to get away with murder and the least likely to be punished. They often retain their pet name.This is the child who ran up to her uncle last weekend, jumped in his arms, and declared, "I'm your honey."
I know my kids aren't tied to these things and that there are always exceptions. (Kevin Leman is always mindful to point this out.) But this article gave renewed focus to my parenting and relieved a little of the guilt I have in always seeing the perspective of one of my children better than the others. I have to work a little harder. I particularly am focused on remembering that sometimes Kyrie is right; there is more than one way to skin a cat. And I have to be more diligent to make sure our little charmer grows up learning to pull her weight.
Lastly, Mike and I were both raised by a middle-born and last-born parent. Remembering that helps us understand why we are both more conventional than our parents and sometimes wish they were more interested in "following the rules." Hopefully, because we were raised by parents not of our birth order, we are more flexible and accommodating. Ben, however, may be a lost cause. (Smile.)
Friday, April 26, 2013
School Zones, Road Kill and Snow
Today I ventured out to the library as schools were being let out. And I was struck by this new world I live in. I came from a part of the country, where every student, right up through high school is viewed as Helen Keller, utterly incapable of hearing or sight. School zones are taken very seriously and you'll get a ticket if you go 21 mph as you pass through one.
Today, I was nearly pushed off the road and was passed as I slowed down to obey the flashing posted 25 mph sign. I never got below 30.
Our public library closed for Good Friday. Mike had the day off from work. Western Washington is a place where the atheists sued to have their own holiday display at Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa.
Most Sundays we drive 88 miles one way to church. Crazy, I know. But we do it in 1 hr 20 minutes. I just mapped that distance. It is the same distance as it was from our Olympia, WA house to my aunt's house in Everett. We never made it there in less than 1 hr, 50 minutes. Sadly, the population has diminished in my new state; the upside is that there are 3 and 4 lane freeways with very little traffic. Our local freeway that goes through our town just raised the speed limit to 70. And there are minimum speed signs posted too.
It snowed this week. And last week. And it is April. This, I'm told is unusual. But it does snow here. Lots. I love it.
I don't love the roadkill. Apparently, this is where Michigan attempts to make cuts from its diminishing population and lost revenue. I have lived a lot of places where roadkill is prevalent; but eventually it gets removed off the side of the road. Not here. Deer decomposing in the corn fields raises all sorts of questions for me. Not fun.
There is a lot I loved about western Washington. And there is a lot I love about Michigan. I really love that I don't have to go 20 mph in school zones.
Today, I was nearly pushed off the road and was passed as I slowed down to obey the flashing posted 25 mph sign. I never got below 30.
Our public library closed for Good Friday. Mike had the day off from work. Western Washington is a place where the atheists sued to have their own holiday display at Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa.
Most Sundays we drive 88 miles one way to church. Crazy, I know. But we do it in 1 hr 20 minutes. I just mapped that distance. It is the same distance as it was from our Olympia, WA house to my aunt's house in Everett. We never made it there in less than 1 hr, 50 minutes. Sadly, the population has diminished in my new state; the upside is that there are 3 and 4 lane freeways with very little traffic. Our local freeway that goes through our town just raised the speed limit to 70. And there are minimum speed signs posted too.
It snowed this week. And last week. And it is April. This, I'm told is unusual. But it does snow here. Lots. I love it.
I don't love the roadkill. Apparently, this is where Michigan attempts to make cuts from its diminishing population and lost revenue. I have lived a lot of places where roadkill is prevalent; but eventually it gets removed off the side of the road. Not here. Deer decomposing in the corn fields raises all sorts of questions for me. Not fun.
There is a lot I loved about western Washington. And there is a lot I love about Michigan. I really love that I don't have to go 20 mph in school zones.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
A Live Lesson
The kids were back to science class today studying birds and migration at the Chippewa Nature Center. This has been an amazing experience for us, worth the small amount of money I pay for Ben and Kyrie to have 90 minutes of hands-on instruction in topics I know little about. Everleigh and I were wandering around checking out the rushing water in the river, watching a mama owl sitting with her new baby in a tree, and enjoying ourselves when I saw a little bird struggling outside a window. A woman was watching intently and I asked her if it had hit the window. She nodded yes and said he was a goner. He was on his back kicking, then stopped for a minute, chest still heaving. I decided to tell a staff person. It's a Nature Center! The receptionist calmly came with me and picked it up and held it. She did a brief check and said he would be fine but they would put him in a paper bag for awhile. The dark calms the bird and when he's relieved himself, they know he is ready to fly again. She spent some time educating us. I asked if the kids in classes could see him and she took him to Ben's class and let the children touch him gently. And then the same with Kyrie's class.
We all learned what to do if a bird survives flying into a window; how to help and what to look for.
I 'm so grateful for the break the Science Center gives me and for the opportunity the kids have to learn from teachers enthusiastic about science and to have time with other kids their age.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Potty-Training (Post No. 112)
This is not really a post about potty-training. It is more a post about my failures as a mother and the wonderful healing balm of forgiveness. I'm writing in the hopes that some mother who is suffering from peer dependence or has read too many parenting books or posts about when and how things should happen without really considering their child, will perhaps do better.
Nothing has been harder for me than potty-training my children. Well, it wasn't really the potty-training. Potty-training is representational. It is about the expectations I have for my kids and potty-training is the thing that laid open the worst instincts I have as a parent.
1) I thought I was patient. It was clear to me that Ben wasn't ready to leave diapers behind at 2; so I patiently waited until he was 2 1/2 and then embarked on two years worth of frustration and read more books, white papers and posts on potty-training than I care to admit. New methods were tried out as I became more and more agitated. I lost my cool a few times and ranted and raved to him about why he couldn't remember, why didn't he care, but I did ok. I quit trying for months at a time, usually starting anew at the 6-month mark.
2) I could not be happy for people who had kids who potty-trained easily. I would hate to admit the rather vindictive feelings that welled up in me when friends matter-of-factly talked about their success potty training in a day. In my worst moments I felt like a total failure and wondered why I had kids. (Clearly, I wasn't good at this.)
3) I somehow overlooked the wisdom of the mothers. Neither of our mothers (Mike's or mine) had an easy time of potty-training despite being excellent teachers. They didn't criticize me; but they did routinely remind me that they had been where I was, with slow kids who weren't ready at the societal norm and especially, Mike's mom, would laugh about it. I should have thought, "Someday I will laugh" and "Eleven children have been potty-trained by these ladies with not one failure." I wanted it done. (See no. 1.)
4) I forgot that saving face in front of others whether in discipline or my children's accomplishments is not worth sacrificing our relationship and well-being for. My children are not pawns. I get to answer to God for the way I raise them. They deserve better than having to define my self-worth.
I am doing better with number 3. She has shown signs of readiness for a year now. At several points I've started down that road and she will pull back and "change her mind." Kyrie did the same thing and I took it as her personally punishment for my inadequacy. When she regressed, I was angry. And I marched around the house being frustrated for the failures instead of celebrating her successes. Some days Ev wears underwear and does great. She has had an accident here and there; mainly she will ask to wear diapers starting in the afternoon. She's tired. She doesn't want to be vigilant. I get that. But we celebrate success. Each and every time.
Kyrie has been her helpful encourager. This week I saw it all, like a story in contrasts. And I apologized to Kyrie. I told her I hadn't celebrated her successes enough and what a smart little girl she had been to figure it all out while I was focusing on potty-training her brother. She threw her arms around me and held me. For a Very Long Time.
Nothing has been harder for me than potty-training my children. Well, it wasn't really the potty-training. Potty-training is representational. It is about the expectations I have for my kids and potty-training is the thing that laid open the worst instincts I have as a parent.
1) I thought I was patient. It was clear to me that Ben wasn't ready to leave diapers behind at 2; so I patiently waited until he was 2 1/2 and then embarked on two years worth of frustration and read more books, white papers and posts on potty-training than I care to admit. New methods were tried out as I became more and more agitated. I lost my cool a few times and ranted and raved to him about why he couldn't remember, why didn't he care, but I did ok. I quit trying for months at a time, usually starting anew at the 6-month mark.
2) I could not be happy for people who had kids who potty-trained easily. I would hate to admit the rather vindictive feelings that welled up in me when friends matter-of-factly talked about their success potty training in a day. In my worst moments I felt like a total failure and wondered why I had kids. (Clearly, I wasn't good at this.)
3) I somehow overlooked the wisdom of the mothers. Neither of our mothers (Mike's or mine) had an easy time of potty-training despite being excellent teachers. They didn't criticize me; but they did routinely remind me that they had been where I was, with slow kids who weren't ready at the societal norm and especially, Mike's mom, would laugh about it. I should have thought, "Someday I will laugh" and "Eleven children have been potty-trained by these ladies with not one failure." I wanted it done. (See no. 1.)
4) I forgot that saving face in front of others whether in discipline or my children's accomplishments is not worth sacrificing our relationship and well-being for. My children are not pawns. I get to answer to God for the way I raise them. They deserve better than having to define my self-worth.
I am doing better with number 3. She has shown signs of readiness for a year now. At several points I've started down that road and she will pull back and "change her mind." Kyrie did the same thing and I took it as her personally punishment for my inadequacy. When she regressed, I was angry. And I marched around the house being frustrated for the failures instead of celebrating her successes. Some days Ev wears underwear and does great. She has had an accident here and there; mainly she will ask to wear diapers starting in the afternoon. She's tired. She doesn't want to be vigilant. I get that. But we celebrate success. Each and every time.
Kyrie has been her helpful encourager. This week I saw it all, like a story in contrasts. And I apologized to Kyrie. I told her I hadn't celebrated her successes enough and what a smart little girl she had been to figure it all out while I was focusing on potty-training her brother. She threw her arms around me and held me. For a Very Long Time.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Winter Diversions
A few days later we discovered a squirrel sitting on a branch holding one of them like he had discovered the Holy Grail. He finally succeeded in pulling it down to the ground at which point, someone (Kyrie?) managed to take a video on my phone as he took off. This is a 13 second-long look as he takes his treasure away.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Florida
This post is dedicated to my grandparents who married on this day many years ago; my grandpa and my grandma both have been instrumental in helping me learn how to use my gifts. My grandpa died on this day 7 years ago and my grandma is missing him as are so many of us today.
Last week I had the chance to accompany Mike to a conference put on by one of the two nonprofits I contract with. They paid for my airfare and Mike's mom drove over to stay with the kids. I had some responsibilities that were relatively simple helping out with the exhibit tables during set-up and then serving as a judge for the table displays, a position which involves cash awards. I had a conference call going in to it and read an email but apparently none of us read it very well. (I'm not sure two of us had seen the email before we started judging.) After a rather grueling judging experience, the four of us reached a decision and I took our decision back to the organizers. And was told we had done it wrong.
I felt horrible, the organizer who sent out the instructions to the groups competing felt terrible, and the timing was tricky. We were all busy, and one of the judges, was a board member who writes the checks for the awards because he really cares. To say he was a little intimidating was well, putting it mildly. In the moment it was decided that our decision would stand and we would make the presentation the next day at lunch.
I went back to my room. I was frustrated and couldn't figure out why. The obvious reason was that people wouldn't be happy and we would make the organizer look bad and that felt horrible. But underlying was a frustration of not feeling in charge. I missed those days when I ran the graduation, the new student orientation, the campus visits from start to finish and I knew the details and had the authority to make the decision and fix the problem. I didn't feel that here. I wasn't sure that any input from me would be received favorably. But I knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing was to fix it. I tried to sleep for two hours before I got up and decided to go all out. I felt a little Queen Estherish hoping the scepter would be put forth and the board member or my boss wouldn't throw me out on my....
I wrote an email explaining what the contenders had been told; I reattached the email that we had not read in detail before we commenced judging. I took responsibility for my part in overlooking the details. I left the decision in his hands. I went to bed. I still felt bad. It wasn't the great relief I hoped for. But I did know I had been true to this part of me that for better or worse is innate to me.
The story has a happy ending. The board member said to me "What can we do?" the next day. I pointed out that we had ignored everything we had said in advance even down to the planned announcement of the winner a day earlier than the schedule said. We had an extra day and we could re-judge. I managed to get all four judges together, explain the situation, and find consensus. Then I felt a huge sense of relief that we had done the right thing and the board member (as far as I know) hadn't instructed my boss to never give me another task ever again. I came to the announcement and held my head high because as far as the contenders knew we had done a good job.
But what if it hadn't? That was the battle I won for myself. Because even in a new gentler, role that feels really insignificant most of the time, I can seek to be excellent. I can use the gifts God gave me and try to do things right. Because the real question now is how can I guide my children to use their gifts?' And how to apply them in new and imperfect circumstances? That is my new real work.
Last week I had the chance to accompany Mike to a conference put on by one of the two nonprofits I contract with. They paid for my airfare and Mike's mom drove over to stay with the kids. I had some responsibilities that were relatively simple helping out with the exhibit tables during set-up and then serving as a judge for the table displays, a position which involves cash awards. I had a conference call going in to it and read an email but apparently none of us read it very well. (I'm not sure two of us had seen the email before we started judging.) After a rather grueling judging experience, the four of us reached a decision and I took our decision back to the organizers. And was told we had done it wrong.
I felt horrible, the organizer who sent out the instructions to the groups competing felt terrible, and the timing was tricky. We were all busy, and one of the judges, was a board member who writes the checks for the awards because he really cares. To say he was a little intimidating was well, putting it mildly. In the moment it was decided that our decision would stand and we would make the presentation the next day at lunch.
I went back to my room. I was frustrated and couldn't figure out why. The obvious reason was that people wouldn't be happy and we would make the organizer look bad and that felt horrible. But underlying was a frustration of not feeling in charge. I missed those days when I ran the graduation, the new student orientation, the campus visits from start to finish and I knew the details and had the authority to make the decision and fix the problem. I didn't feel that here. I wasn't sure that any input from me would be received favorably. But I knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing was to fix it. I tried to sleep for two hours before I got up and decided to go all out. I felt a little Queen Estherish hoping the scepter would be put forth and the board member or my boss wouldn't throw me out on my....
I wrote an email explaining what the contenders had been told; I reattached the email that we had not read in detail before we commenced judging. I took responsibility for my part in overlooking the details. I left the decision in his hands. I went to bed. I still felt bad. It wasn't the great relief I hoped for. But I did know I had been true to this part of me that for better or worse is innate to me.
The story has a happy ending. The board member said to me "What can we do?" the next day. I pointed out that we had ignored everything we had said in advance even down to the planned announcement of the winner a day earlier than the schedule said. We had an extra day and we could re-judge. I managed to get all four judges together, explain the situation, and find consensus. Then I felt a huge sense of relief that we had done the right thing and the board member (as far as I know) hadn't instructed my boss to never give me another task ever again. I came to the announcement and held my head high because as far as the contenders knew we had done a good job.
But what if it hadn't? That was the battle I won for myself. Because even in a new gentler, role that feels really insignificant most of the time, I can seek to be excellent. I can use the gifts God gave me and try to do things right. Because the real question now is how can I guide my children to use their gifts?' And how to apply them in new and imperfect circumstances? That is my new real work.
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