When my kids were little, I often felt stuck in the house with them. With three kids under the age of five, it was too much work to actually go anywhere.
Now, they are all teenagers (except for bonus child #4), and we are never home; all we seem to do is drive. Drive to soccer. Drive to church (choir). Drive to work (until oldest gets his license). Drive to church (middle school youth group). Drive to Scouts. Drive to pottery. Drive to church (high school youth group). Drive to archery. Drive to dance. Drive to church (altar server party). Drive to a meeting (any given week, there is at least one).
Drive, drive, drive.
While driving in DFW traffic is not my favorite thing to do, I have come to see this constant taxiing back and forth as a blessing - one of the biggest blessings I have had in their teenage years.
The car has become our couch, our confessional, our psychiatrist's bench, our counseling office. For whatever given time we have - five minutes, 30 minutes, an hour - all distractions are removed (well, outside the kamikaze cell phone drivers). No tv, no computer, no board games, no Mom-teaching, no cooking dinner, no folding laundry - NO distractions. I am all theirs, and they are mine.
Many of our trips are one-on-one. It is my chance to check in with them outside the hearing of other brothers. It is safe between those plastic and steel walls.
Sometimes it is small things - changing the radio and learning what songs they do or don't like. Commenting on what they see out the window. Random thoughts - car rides tend to bring out the random in my kids. You really should be a fly on the ceiling when we pass a field of llamas (or is it alpacas?) near our neighborhood. I can't explain it - my kids have this weird, funny voice they use, and they talk about the llamas/alpacas in that voice, and it just cracks me up - every time.
Sometimes it is more serious - our time to talk about dating, about life plans, about friends. We do this at home, too; again, there is something so "safe" in than minivan of mine. Our Car Confessionals are different from any other conversations we have.
I was reminded of this today as I got in the van to drive boy #3 to church (surprise!) for a party for those kids celebrating their one year of serving at church. My knee hurt from a bad fall I took last week. I didn't want to drive. Schools were just letting out, and I was trying not to hit a) neighbor kids (Hi, Garrett!) and b) all the cars lining the surrounding streets waiting to pick up kids. I didn't have to go anywhere else until tonight, and I really did not want to be out this afternoon. I was gripey in my heart.
I enjoyed that short car drive with him. Nothing major was said, just happy chatter. And as he left me, slamming the van door, yelling good-bye over his shoulder with a kiss and a wave, it hit me - this window of blessing. For six minutes, I had him all to myself. I was reminded of his happy, sunny nature. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for his sweetness and generous heart.
And it all came flooding in - these precious moments every week I get to spend with each of them. "Our" time - the Young Adult and I get to drive to dance; Boy #2 and I drive to fencing; boy #3 and I have had pottery class; #4 goes out with me a lot still. Each one gets special Mom Drive Time.
I have an entire bookshelf devoted to my non-fiction books, most of which I gathered during college and graduate school. Which basically means they have been gathering dust for years.
Dusty relics of an earlier time
Last year when I cleaned my room, I found a few old papers and tests from graduate school days. I sat on my floor and flipped through them. I recognized my handwriting on the tests, identified my name on the papers, but could not for the life of me remember ever being able to pen such thoughts, to string together such complex ideas, to write in such sophistication. It was a bit of an out-of-body experience.
In those old days I studied, and received, a Masters degree in Theology. Pretty heady stuff. I lived a Life of the Mind. During those days, my work consisted of reading, meditating, writing, participating in heady discussions with my peers, contemplation, and prayer. 3/4ths of my time was spent in the Life of the Mind.
When I got married and started having children, I knew the Life of the Mind could no longer be my sole work. In fact, I knew it must be put off for a season or two. I determined to continue intellectual and spiritual reading, even for just 10 minutes a day.
10 minutes a day becomes a token 10 minutes when you have three children under 5 years old. There are multiple diapers to change, minds to grow, games to play, tantrums to quell, and life to live. When they are older, I thought.
Now they are older (not to mention #4 came along). And now my days are consumed with educating them, driving them, cooking for them, cleaning, and all the other million mundane things that make up the life of a wife and mother (add in the usually part-time job to work and volunteer stuff to do). I know all about the "Domestic Monastery", and it is beautiful; but it is a stern taskmaster.
Earlier this year, I realized I was withering away in my mind. I never - never - had more than 10 or 15 minutes to spend reading something meaty or thinking or contemplating or praying. And this has been my way of life for 16 years.
Not that I am complaining - I willingly and freely chose my life. I love being a mother - it is the absolute best part of me. But for someone who enjoys thinking and learning and studying, it is hard to be separated from those things for so long.
I did some writing several years back. I published some magazine articles, one booklet, and many web articles. But, like everything else concerned with the Life of the Mind, I had to make the decision to put that aside, as well. It was taking up so much of my time. I had boys to teach and a house to run.
Earlier this year, I had a mini-epiphany - I need the Life of the Mind again. For me, this is important. It may only be a small part of my day, but it needs to become part of my day again. With no time to really think about things, to read and meditate, to learn and contemplate, I have been like a car with its engine revving for years. My mind is going 24/7, but with small things.
Right now I am working on lesson plans for my new Tolkien/Lord of the Rings class. This subject is one of my favorites. It is the third time I am teaching it. This time, I have several repeat students, so I am doing new lesson plans - a part two, if you will. In order to prepare for this, I do a lot of reading. I currently have ten books, 2 binders with supplemental papers, two spiral notebooks with notes, and a computer on my table - all of which I am using. I have spent several weeks just reading. Reading and thinking. And taking notes.
All Tolkien; All the time.
No - it will not all go to my class. This is the way I educate myself; the way I continue learning, so I can teach, so I can share, so I can have something to give.
Yesterday, I spent the entire day on one handout. It took that long to read, to fact-check, to organize my thoughts, to finish. Writing takes time. Even this blog has taken up a great deal of my morning. Of course, I stop to answer the phone, to take care of email business, to talk to the middle boys about robots, and to readjust the Ninja's face mask. All in a day's work.
How can I mind stopping for this????
And I love it all. I love my mundane life - I love taking care of my family (at least, in theory!), I love teaching, I love my little jobs outside the house, I love the business of family life. But, I also used to love the Life of the Mind. And I am ready to fall in love with it all over again.
This past Saturday, I attended the memorial service for a man who lost his battle with cancer. I did not know him personally, but, as with any funeral I attend, I learned a lot about him during the service. I loved what I heard, and sat there wishing I had known him.
I do know his wife. My sweet friend, Sherryl, walked this long, painful, bitter walk with her husband. She has shared her ups and downs, announced updates, and requested prayers on facebook, allowing her friends to walk this with her, even in a small way. I know she and her family have been in my daily prayers for a while now.
Sherryl is not grieving alone. In addition to all her family and friends, she has two young sons.
Losing a parent is almost always hard. Losing a parent while you are still a child yourself is unbearably difficult. And it never, ever leaves you.
The biggest gift a parent can give their child in a time a mourning is to show them how to grieve and, even more importantly, how to hope. Grief is terrifying for children. It is overwhelming and scary and loud and noisy and all-consuming. But worse is when grief begins to lose its stronghold. Then, life seems terrifying. Are you supposed to laugh? Is it okay to smile? Are you a monster if you make a joke? Do something fun? Will you lose your beloved if you stop concentrating on grief for a moment? What about when your memory of their face becomes blurred? The earth seems to shake when you can no longer recall their voice in your mind.
A child who loses their parent during childhood will only ever have a child's memory of that parent.
As I watched Sherryl on Saturday, she cried; she hugged; she smiled;
she looked like she would die herself; she looked strong; she looked
weak. Most of all, the love for her two sons shone through. Her younger
son gave a moving testimony to his father. When he was finished, he
returned to a loving embrace from his tearful mother.
And I thought - she has no idea what she is doing. She has no idea the gift she is giving her sons.
As Sherryl walks this long, difficult road of picking up her life again, she is leading her children. She is testifying to them how to be in pain, yet hope. How to cry, yet live. How to move on yet never forget. How to doubt, yet cling to faith.
I am sure Sherryl does not know this. I am sure she feels like she is stumbling through this whole survival thing, blindly. I am sure she feels she is making mistake after mistake. But, she isn't. She is being a gift to her children. One they will remember for the rest of their lives.
It is August - the month I always remember my father's passing, one week before my 11th birthday. It never leaves you.
We are a driven people who live in a driven age. We reach for the stars. We shoot for the moon. We strive for greatness. But what happens if we shoot for the moon, yet barely get our feet off of terra firma?
Success, or the experience? Which is better? I have read several articles and blogs on this topic lately, especially as it concerns children. And while the consensus seems to say that letting our children discover, explore, and savor the experience is the good thing, real life still seems to favor winners.
My son dances. Well, two of my sons dance, but one is only six, and he is just beginning and may not continue, and even bad six-year-old dancers are adorable.
The Young Adult began dancing at the age of 10. (Actually, I have the videos to prove he started dancing as a toddler, but I am not allow to show these under pain of death.) He and his best friend decided to take a class at our homeschool coop on Highland Dance. They liked it enough and learned a few things. When the Young Adult turned 11, we required him to take some kind of sport or PE class. He is not what you would call a "traditional athlete", and - long story short - he chose to enroll in Highland Dance as a real student this time.
First of all, if you know nothing about Highland dance (and let's face it - not many people do), it is a very athletic sport which combines dance, grace, coordination, precision, and sheer power, all set to bagpipe music. If that doesn't blow your kilt, I don't know what will! Dancing a 6 Step Fling is equivalent to sprinting one mile. Read it again. Sprinting a MILE! Now, sprint a mile gracefully, and you have Highland dance.
When the Young Adult officially began Highland dance, we did not let him compete for one year. Poor kid was 11, and had just hit a massive growth spurt. He was basically a human Labrador puppy - all long legs and big paws, and almost no coordination. And if you have done any kind of dance, you will know coordination is kind of important in dance. When his first year was up, he began to compete, but not very well. He just lacked, well, coordination. He took what we call the "long route" in Highland dance. He did not shoot up the ranks or blow through the levels. He struggled and fought his way up.
Some dancers spend one year or less in the beginner category. The Young Adult spent three years as a beginner. Three long years. He watched while others moved ahead, seemingly with ease.
Always, always, always, dance has been HIS decision. In the low points, when it felt like he would never move ahead, it was his decision to stay. When he realized that in order to succeed, he would have to give up his natural tendency to laziness, it was his decision to work at home on his skills.
I won't say Art Guy and I did nothing. We urged him to practice. Sometimes we demanded it. We told him that if we were going to spend this kind of money on an activity, then he owed us to work at it.But, the decision to continue in this activity, to be a dancer, has always been his.
And I will say this - at 16 1/2, the benefits of Highland Dance are apparent. Physically, his physique is rock hard (he could probably break cement with his calf muscles. You can tell a Highland dancer by their calf muscles.). Mentally, he has learned to focus and push himself, but not over think. Emotionally, he has learned to expect great things, but acknowledge defeat. He had learned to stand on a stage and receive one last place ribbon, after months of hard work. He has sat in the stands, hearing everyone's number but his called for awards. Dance will tear you up and spit you out if you do not learn how to deal with these things. He has learned that his greatest enemy is himself - if he tells himself he will fail (and he does this a lot), then he will. Spiritually, he has learned to accept instruction, take correction, to be humble, to be proud, to be a graceful winner and a graceful loser.
USIR, Sugarland, 2014. The longest, biggest stage I have ever seen.
This past weekend we were able to attend the big national competition for Highland Dance - the USIRs - the United States Inter-Regional Championships. The divisions are too much to explain, so to sum up - Premiere is the highest level, and all the other sub-levels are called Pre-Premiere.
Yes, I wish every Highland dance competition was in a plushy ballroom with temp control.
Only qualifying Premiere dancers competed in the USIRs. We watched those. And man! Were they amazing! The Young Adult was, at first, intimidated watching them, then inspired. By the end of the big national competition, he was dying to dance, to put into practice what he had witnessed, what he sat taking notes on.
Ready to dance - oh, the possibilities!
He did dance at the Pre-Premiere competitions, held at the same place on different days. His group is the next highest level, and they are very good. There were 9 this past weekend in his category. Nine dancers danced a total of seven dances. He only placed in two. He received a sixth place medal on Friday and a fourth place medal on Sunday, for the same dance.
Much happier with his fourth place finish.
On Friday, after receiving his sixth place medal, I watched his try to control his anger and his tears. He does not usually melt down like that, but I think after all the work he had been doing for the past few months (3 hours of class a week, and practice every day at home), he was so angry at himself, at his lack of "skill", at what he perceived to be his failure. I sat with my arm around him, talking to him, shoring up the breaking dam of his heart. Although I looked calm, my heart broke watching him.
No, he is not a natural at his sport. No, it does not come easy. No, even hours of practice a week is not enough to make up for the natural grace and ability others have - even some of his own dance friends. And yes, even after hours and hours of practice, sometimes the best you can do is last place.
He came away excited, ready to recommit himself to compete at the highest level, which he will move to in 2015. He is determined to go to the Southwest Regionals for the first time next year, and do something to make himself proud, to prove to himself that hard work and ambition can pay off.
And my heart quivers within me. Do I think he can do it? Well, his goal is not really to win, but to place well. And yes, I think he can do it. I think it will take more time and effort then even he realizes, and a dedication he has not quite reached (but he is so close to). So, yes; yes, I think he can. I believe in him. But, I also know what it is to work and work and work and long and desire and work some more, and never reach the top - that seems to be my life story, so maybe he inherited it from me.
I just want him to know that it IS worth it. The experience. The lessons learned. They ARE the journey. The medals and trophies and accolades - those are the icing on the cake, not the cake or even the flour and eggs and milk. Everything he is learning, all the people he is meeting, all the friends he is making - that is what matters. Someday when he is old, he will be able to say, "I was a Highland Dancer" and he will look at video of his younger self leaping into the air and he will be amazed and shocked and wish he had know. KNOWN. Known that THAT was what mattered.
In the end, the journey is what takes you places. Have a great trip, my son.
This morning I find myself in an odd position - I have time on my hands and I am not sure what to do.
I am not a person who thrives on being busy. I do not love to brag about my full schedule. Yet, my schedule is full. Lately, it has been overflowing. Between the four kids and all their activities, homeschooling, and a spate of singing jobs (for which I am very grateful), I have been running at break-neck speed for a few months now. Well, probably since August, when school began.
Yet, here, in the middle of May, the end is in sight. Already youth group (all three older boys) and soccer (Romeo) have ended. Just one more pottery class for Romeo. Dance and Scouts continue, but that is almost nothing compared to the full-blown schedule of three active teens (Romeo is just 12, but he is bigger than me, so I lump him in there with his brothers). School is limping along. Romeo has a few things to finish up, CookieBoy is almost completely done, and The Young Adult will be mostly done by Memorial Day. The Monkey and I work together most mornings, but it is still pretty brief.
Going from 100 mph to 10 mph (well, maybe 40 mph) feels like a jolt. As much as I long for the lazy days of summer, there is always an adjustment period.
The guilt of not being busy is intense. How much do I need to say, "I hardly had time to breathe today" in order to feel productive? As much as I hate being busy, busy-ness becomes so addicting. In my mind, it becomes warped to:
busy-ness = worth.
It is a love-hate thing.
My mind knows the reality. The busier I am, the less time I have to think, contemplate, read, meditate, absorb - just be. These things are important. But when I look up from my reading or thinking and see the dirty kitchen floor or the laundry sitting in the washer that is starting to smell, I feel guilt.
So this morning, I found myself wandering around the house after my initial morning chores and work. CookieBoy had already finished school and was getting ready to play a board game with the Monkey. Romeo was reading his literature. The Young Adult's online math class was in session.
What is a girl to do? I need to continue to clean my room (what am I? 13? Apparently!). There is laundry waiting to be done. The kitchen floor needs a good mopping.
These things will happen. Summer will come. In August, I will bemoan the change from relaxed days to carefully orchestrated battle plans.
For today, I will enjoy the time given and this gorgeous Texas spring day.
I still have to pause and think about what year it is (is it 2012? 2014? 2000?), and it is already over! I do not think I really ever caught on to this year. After a string of very difficult years, 2012 was incredible, a real turning point for my family. While 2013 was not nearly as amazing as 2012, neither was it horrible. It was a year of learning and growing.
1) Who I Am - I turned 40 in 2013. Still blows my mind. It is so . . , older! Inside, I still feel like a bumbling 18-year-old. My birthday gift to myself was permission to love who I am, not who I feel I should be (and here my husband goes, "DUH! I have been trying to get you to do this for years!" I know, honey - you are a man of wisdom!). It is a daily struggle, but I am learning to tame the negative messages I have been feeding myself since I was a teenager. I am learning to be patient with my body (because I am very unhappy with it) and more patient with my myriads of mistakes. Learning to love yourself is a tricky business.
Putting this picture on our Christmas card collage was a big step for me
2) What I Do - I began a new job, in addition to all the other things I already do. It has its goods and its bads. I am trying to weigh the two to decide how to move forward, and that is one of my big tasks of 2014.
3) What I Love - Singing. I began singing in college. I took a break from singing from the time of grad school through the birth of of my first child. I have been singing in church again for almost 16 years. It is an odd thing - being a church cantor. You have to have the chutzpah to get up in front of a large group of people and think they won't mind listening to you, but remain humble and never forget you are serving. A real paradox!
One of my workspaces
Earlier this year, I rededicated myself to this ministry. After a lot of prayer and helpful conversation with two fellow singers (thanks Sharon and Kerry!), I knew I was at a crossroads: I either needed to get out of cantoring altogether or I needed to place myself in the service of God in this ministry. And being in service means that I cannot be egotistical at all about what I do. For me, this means I (try to) accept what I get asked to do and what I do not get asked to do. It means I give it my all, without expectation of reward or recognition.
And believe me, I have LOTS of opinions when it comes to church music! My family gives me special "music-venting" time, when I am musically stressed! 4) Who I Surround Myself With - this was a year of changing friendships. Some relationships change, some fade away, and some bloom.
I have been so incredibly blessed to develop a real friendship with my dear neighbor. It was a
totally unexpected joy this year. It is such a gift to find a new friend, especially one you can really relate to and who urges you to be a better person and walk closer to God. She was literally an answer to prayer, but even better, her whole family has been a blessing to my whole family.
Other times this past year, I have reached out on facebook - in joy or frustration or whatever - and I received such support and love. It feels silly to say, but facebook was a real blessing this year.
2014, a whole new year full of promise. I have big hopes and plans for this coming year!
1) My Marriage - this is one of the things I am MOST excited about for the upcoming year. ArtGuy and I have been married 17 years, and have been parents 16 out of those 17 years. Parenthood has defined our marriage. It is a good thing, yes (one of the very best things of my life), but also trying, as anyone with multiple children will tell you. Some of our children are more "intense" than others, and that can lead to spending a lot of time on parenting - which is a good thing for the kids, but not so great for the marriage.
Now that our youngest, the Monkey, has turned 5 and is no longer a baby (a fact over which I vacillate between cheers and tears), and no one is currently deathly ill or dying (the illness and death of my only sister was very, very difficult) means we have a chance to really connect with each other in a way we have not for a long time.
I heard someone say that when you have been married to someone for 15, 16, 17 years, you can no longer compare them to who they were when you were first married. No one is the same as they were 15 (or more) years ago, so you have to relate to each other as you are now. It is a beautiful thought.
Not that having multiple teens in the house is a breeze, but it is a different ball game than when we had three little boys under the age of 5!
So, ArtGuy and I are on a mission to reconnect, outside of being parents. It is very exciting!
2) My Children - Like I said above, our youngest is now five - or as he proudly proclaims ,"a big boy"! And the Young Adult is 16 (gulp!). Cookie Boy is 14 and Romeo is staring 12 in the face. ArtGuy and I are in a Golden Era of parenting. The boys are all independent (to a degree), self-sufficient (at times), and able to pour their own breakfast cereal (my Golden Standard for childhood independence!). They are all interactive, fun, and easy to cart around. They are all still home. In just a few years, college will loom in our lives and my little nest will be broken up (as it should be. Sniff sniff!). But, for now, they are all here and they are all fun to be around.
Look at those hats! They just scream, "fun and crazy guys"!
We are planning a really big family trip this year, which should be a blast. I have a feeling we will look back on this coming year as a special time in our lives.
3) What To Do - I am excited about a new year and what I want to pursue. Do I want to work on writing again? Painting? Devote myself to cooking (hah hah!)?
I know 2014 will involve gearing up the college prep for the Young Adult, which makes me shake in my boots a little (if you told me 17 years ago I would be homeschooling high schoolers . . .).
I am going to give myself permission to say "no" or "not now" more often in 2014 (I hope I learned my lesson by my over-involvement in too many things in 2013. But, I do it every once in a while - 10th grade, junior year of college, and apparently, 2013!).
So, goodbye 2013. It has been an interesting year.
Today is my one day with nowhere I HAVE to go (no Lego meetings, no work, no choir practice, no classes to cart kids to, no rehearsals), so I am choosing to be home! A novel concept these days!
So far I have cleaned the kitchen, swept and mopped the floor, and vacuumed downstairs. Well, the vacuuming was a two-step process. First, I ran the vacuum, then noticed it did not work. Second, I sat down and removed enough of my hair that had been wrapped around the roller that is was bigger than my hand - then I actually vacuumed!
Two years ago, I found the most adorable Advent book while I was browsing in Walmart. I bought it, and it has become one of my favorite things to do with the Monkey each Advent. I highly, highly recommend it if you have little ones. It counts down each day until Christmas with a short part of the Nativity story, with a small activity to do. Most of these activities are not a big deal and do not require extra materials - this non-crafty mom appreciates that! Yet, it really helps little ones connect with the preparation for Christmas.
Today's activity asked the Monkey to retell the Christmas story in his own words, while I wrote it down. I did. If you have little ones, get this done today. You will be glad you did. (We used a plush nativity set to help him tell the story.)
And so I bring to you the Christmas Story, in the words of five-year-old Monkey boy:
Joseph and Mary went a long, long way to the stable so that the baby could get out of Mary's tummy. Mary was going to be very excited about her new baby.
The baby got out of Mary's tummy. And Joseph and Mary thought and thought of a name for the baby. Then, they thought of one - Jesus.
Then, they saw a light that was far away, and it came closer and closer.
Then when they realized when it came it was the three Wise Men and the shepherds. The Wise Men's camel came slow.
The shepherd sat down the light so the baby would not be scared.
Then one shepherd gave the baby a little blanket to put on him.
Then two angels appeared. And they said, "Mary and Joseph, protect that baby!"
Then, the angels disappeared into heaven. But before they went, they gave Mary
some flowers.
The three Wise Men gave Mary a crown and Joseph a hat. And they gave them
two rings, since they got married.
And then the Wise Men sat down their stuff for Mary to protect the baby with.
Then, the shepherds went home, and the wise men went to their castle where they sat on their big, red chairs.
Since it is 1:15am and I just can't sleep, why not get around to writing that blog I never have time for? Sure, why not!
It is now officially November. Did you hear me? November! Halloween is over, and now is the official start of what we call "Money Season" in our family. Cookie Boy's birthday is tomorrow, the Young Adult's in one month, both the kids' grandmothers coming soon, and Christmas is right around the corner. Shew! Time to get creative with the gift-giving!
This fall has been a whirlwind of activity. It always is. This year more than others. First Lego League season is about at it's midway point, in full swing. I love it. This is our fourth season, and most of the boys on the team are pros by now and know what needs to happen. I love to see them getting things done. They are miles beyond where they started three years ago.
Dance season has almost reached its winter break, as far as competition season goes. The Young Adult is also no where near where he began years ago. He is so exciting to watch. His dancing commands attention. His progress through the levels has been fairly slow, but if he can pull out ONE more medal next weekend, he will move up one more ranking and be done with needing stamps forever and ever. He is nervous, exciting, and feeling a lot of pressure (from himself, I might add). I am so proud of him.
Work as been . . work. Major drama last week left me drained, stressed, and flat, emotionally speaking. I forgot about that side of a job - the talking behind people's back, the politics, the trying-to-get-along-with-people-who-you-would-normally-avoid. Sigh. I am going to keep a good attitude and smile and be nice to all, no matter what.
My big life lesson the past few months is about letting go - letting go of plans, of fears, of control.
Let nothing disturb thee;
Let nothing dismay thee;
All things pass; God
never changes.
Patience attains all that it strives for.
He who has God
finds he lacks nothing:
God alone suffices
-St. Teresa of Avila
Since today is November 1, it is also the beginning of my favorite liturgical time of the year. I love November. All Saints Day, Christ the King - these feasts are full of the richness of heritage and harvest. And it all leads right up to Advent - hands down my favorite church season.
I would like to think I am Supermom. But if I had a hero name based on life and skills, it would probably be more like Frazzle Mom!
Less this . . .
More this . ..
Granted, our falls are always busy - ArtGuy has his annual conference, which takes him away for a week (not to mention the countless hours of work beforehand, nights and weekends in addition to days). The kids are always busy. The past 4 years, Lego League is chugging ahead in the fall.
However, this fall has been far more busy than usual. I am not a person who takes pride in my busy-ness. I do not feel more accomplished the busier I am. In fact, I fall apart without some quiet time every day. I lose myself when I have no time for contemplation and reflection.
So, this fall has truly been a challenge. I took on a new job, as a preschool music teacher. It is only two mornings a week, but that is just official work hours. There is a lot of time spent planning lessons, learning music, burning CDs, making props, creating lesson plans, prepping. Way more time than I anticipated.
I do love it, though. The kids are adorable. I love sharing my love of music with them. True story - for the past two weeks, I was sharing the William Tell Overture with them. One week we did Part 3 - Ranz de Vaches and one week we did the classic Finale. I told them all about parts 1 and 2 (Dawn and the Storm). Most classes requested to hear parts of all four movements. Last week we listened to snippets of 1-3 (and all of 4). Most classes requested to go back and hear part 2, the Storm, again. They loved it! I love seeing them get excited about music.
I also received a nice affirmation. Our preschool was observed by assessors for accreditation, and they had some very nice things to say about how I was doing.
Yet, in spite of all those good things, I spend every day flying around, trying to make it to the next task. Lego League, preschool music, cantoring. choir, homeschool coop, kids' classes, and our own homeschool - it has been a very, very challenging fall.
I am trying very hard to not lose myself in it all. It has been a good lesson for me - appreciating each moment, not worrying about what is coming (much), giving myself a break.
Even now, I am baking oatmeal banana breakfast cups (the Young Adult got a huge box of overripe bananas from a food shelter who needed to get rid of them), prepping for our Lego meeting, doing laundry, taking quick breaks to dust and put junk that has accumulated all over the house away, supervise the 13-year-old shaving his mustache off, and starting school!
Stuff seems to be everywhere. Clutter. Junk. Toys. Books.
Stuff.
I hardly have time to think a thought, much less clean more than on-the-fly. My new schedule for the school year is way too much for me. I am so hopeful it will settle down soon. But for now, I am amazed at the amount of stuff I can get done in one day. Amazed, and impressed I have not exploded into little bits.
It is the sheer volume of "to-do", but -almost worst - it is the constant shifting from one mode to another. Lego coach mode - zzzzoop! Now make dinner! Now get lessons plans for preschool! Now teach preschool! Now run home and teach and help high school, middle school, and kindergarten. Now STOP and dust the 2 inches of dust from the piano and grab that laundry. But wait, it is time to drive a kid to a practice. But not before you pull dinner out of the freezer! Good? Good, because now it is time to get those homeschool coop lesson plans done!
My head is spinning, I am not sleeping. I am in tears. I am tired.
I was SO proud of myself. In the cleaning I did over the summer, my bedroom became trashed. Everything seemed to end up in there. I worked really hard one whole morning, and cleared about a 3ft by 2 ft space. Just bare carpet.
Gorgeous.
I am not kidding - I have gone into my room just to look at that spot. It makes me feel calm. It makes me feel I can DO it!
I found I have to haul a load of junk to and from our homeschool coop (in a bin that does not really even fit in the back of my van! Sorry about those marks on the bin, guys!). In addition to that, the suitcase of junk I haul to the coop class I teach - those now occupy my Clean Space.
It is really stupid, but it makes me so, so sad. I am determined to find another place for those things, but I am not sure where yet.
Those lost space makes me feel I will never get it all done. Dreams of a clean bedroom, newly painted - hah! That is all they are. Dreams. Those paint chips are going to hang on my wall for as long as I shall live. No one but me will clean, no one but me cares.
It has been two years since I tried the the Everything Meals for a Month book. This is where you buy a whole warehouse-load of food, cook all day, and then have enough food to pretty much last you for a month.
I did it once, two years ago. We loved the meals. But, I never made the time to do a month's worth of cooking again.
Until two weeks ago, that is.
As our children have gotten older, our family schedule has become crazy-busy. I mean, I was worn out and tired when they were all little, but it was a completely different crazy than now. Now, we are go-go-go, all the time. I don't even like to be busy!
Our dinner time has suffered the most in all this. It is difficult to make dinner when you are not home 3 or 4 nights a week, or only arrive home at 6:30 or 7:00pm. Or, after a full day of teaching and errand running, the last thing I want to do is chop onions or make anything! I just want to eat!
So, it seemed like it was time to do the whole cook-for-a-month thing again.
That doesn 't even count the stuff in the fridge and freezer!
One week ago, I made my list and hit the grocery store. I spent one whole Saturday cooking. I ended up with about 20 meals. I planned a few pizza nights, breakfast-for-dinner nights, and leftover nights to bring the total up to close to 30.
I made (all from the Everything Meals for a Month book):
Pizza Fondue (x2)
Santa Fe Soup (x2)
Apple Glazed Pork Roast (x3)
Slow Cooker Lasagna (x3)
Turkey Meatballs with Couscous (x2)
Burgers (x2)
Apple Glazed Pork Roast. 2 words: Nom Nom!
Everything has been so delicious! We have been enjoying eating real meals almost every night. The best part is, I don't feel that panic over, "Oh my gosh! I have to feed the family again! What am I going to doooooooo"!
My ice bath to cool things off more quickly. It was so hot, the ice melted instantly!
Now I just have to find time to do this every month!
My birthday was last week, August 15. Also the Catholic feast day of the Assumption of Mary. My mother chose this date for my birth (planned C-section) and dedicated me to Mary. So, I get my birthday and my feast day all in one, glorious celebration!
My third son, Romeo, gave me a present on my birthday. I opened it to find a nice paracord necklace with the above St. Michael charm to go on it, along with a keychain. Apparently, the Basilica, where he purchased it, was all out of Mary charms.
But that is okay, because I have been praying the St. Michael prayer every morning and evening; only Romeo did not know that! St. Therese was my saint last year, so maybe this year St. Michael is making his presence known!
ArtGuy, being an artist and all, is always on the prowl for good Catholic products with decent design and artwork. It is amazing how much this is in short supply in modern times. Most things, especially for children, seem to be from more distant times, or, sadly, of inferior quality. There are exceptions, of course, but in the main, it is hard to find Catholic products for kids that are attractive in form and design and quality. Even their website is well designed. Score!
As soon as I opened this Tiny Saints charm, I was in love! The design is super, super cute, lightweight, easy to wear. The materials seem to be good quality. I love that you can buy different charms and just clip the one you want on to your necklace. (I plan on getting the Mary one soon!)
I think Romeo even put out a big hint that he thought these were cool, too. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
3000 miles. In a minivan, with 4 kids. 11 days gone - 6 of those 11 days were spent driving.
Lots of "family togetherness"!
I learned a few things on this trip.
1. My kids are awesome travelers. Really, really awesome. Even the Monkey! 10-12 hours driving a day is not "fun", but they managed to make it much more enjoyable.
2. Be careful what you collect - Cookie Boy collects playing cards. He buys a new deck of cards for every new state he visits (or sometimes I get him a deck when I travel). The decks have to be State decks or represent the special place he is visiting - he is looking for unique, fun, commemorative cards.
Apparently, finding playing cards is a hit-or-miss type of thing.
We visited many, may gas stations and souvenir shops. Want a dinner bell? No prob? Shot glass - easy, peasy. Collectible spoon - everyone has them.
Playing cards - not so much.
However, he did manage to get 7 new decks this trip - Arkansas (the only ones we could find were Razorback cards, but it works!), Tennessee, Virginia, Annapolis, Maryland; and the Cape May/Lewes Ferry for Deleware. We also got him special cards from Graceland and the National Shrine in DC.
Mission accomplished!
3. Weather - we saw lots of weather on our trip. Storms lit up the sky while we drove from Memphis to Nashville, TN last week. It did not rain on us then, but we watched in awe as the lightning forked the skies, mainly jumping from cloud to cloud. It was awesome.
We went through many showers and downpours. We even had fog and low clouds on mountains.
Awesome clouds in Virginia
No one seemed too impressed. But I was!
Cool and windy - but sunny - on the beach
Weather! Clouds!!! Rain!!!!!
It made me think - the weather in Texas is pretty uniform - sunny and warm or sunny and hot. If it is not those things, it is apocalyptical, end-of-the-world stuff. Not much in-between.
rainbow cloud!
I loved looking at the clouds, rain, lightning, wind, sun, moon, stars.
Blurry, but you can make out the clouds on the mountain
4. We really need to get out more. I am pretty sure I spent more time with my husband on this trip than I have in the past two years. Being trapped in a van for 3000 miles will give you time to talk.
5. I found out my husband only reads my blog "occasionally". Sigh. Nothing like feeling supported, although he is encouraging in a general, "go, you!" kind of way.
Sad face.
6. We are raising our kids right! Musically, anyway.
I am very eclectic in my musical tastes. My kids were laughing at my iPod as it played in the van. Queen followed by Lady Antebellum followed by the Tallis Scholars singing chant. Yeah . . .
The Monkey had his favorites. It was cracking us up to hear him sing:
Another Bites the Dust - Queen
Don't You Want Me - The Human League
Day-O - Harry Belafonte
Don't Stop Believing - Journey
Can't Touch This - MC Hammer
Hey, Soul Sister - Train
7. I learned a new way to pack. I read this blog about packing a family up for vacation, but I dismissed it. The day before we left, I decided to give it a whorl. The blog suggests using bins to pack. I only had a few, so I only packed some things this way. Next time, everyone is getting their own bin. It saved SO MUCH SPACE! It was awesome.
We have a minivan, but it is a very small minivan - a Mazda MPV. There is very little trunk room.
Packing 6 people for 11 days, for the beach, when the weather will be 100 degrees some places and 65 in others - it was daunting. But, the bins made it all better.
ArtGuy and I had all our clothes together in a 58 Qt bin. Plus some shoes and other things. Cookie Boy and Romeo each got their own 15 Qt bin. We rolled the clothes up nice and tight (helps reduce wrinkles, too!).
Things got more messy on the way home, but hey! The driver can see out the back.
Love the bins!
In addition, each boy received a shoe-sized bin for their in-the-van stuff. They have backpacks, but it gets very squished as we travel. These bins held sunglasses, earbuds, iPods, Nintendo DSs, pens/pencils/markers, and other small items. It helped them to keep smaller stuff together, and they were able to trade places a lot more easily. (The blog I read recommended shoes in these, too, but I am guessing the lady has some small children, not boys with giant feet!)
I also had a shoe sized bin for the front seat that had Mom's-heroic-moments-type stuff. Need a tissue Ta dah! A wipe for sticky hands? Here ya go! Fingernail clippers? Ibuprofin? Travel sized laundry detergent? Sunscreen? A Sharpie (you have NO idea how much that Sharpie came in handy)? An extra grocery bag for trash? Got it!
We also packed a separate small suitcase (in the future this will be a bin, too) with our "hotel" clothes. Since we were staying at hotels overnight both ways, we only had to unload that suitcase and a couple of smaller items, and not the whole van.
I packed our toiletries and charging cords and other miscellaneous items in a small red carry-on.
Everything stayed pretty neat and organized.
Lesson learned!
8. 11 days is a long time to be gone. 3000 miles is a lot of traveling. Not everyone was nice on the road or in stores or at attractions. However, ArtGuy and I noticed that while not everyone was nice, most people were nice.
We were amazed at the number of nice, friendly, mannered people we encountered.
Sometimes you forget or just think no one cares. And then the world shows you there is goodness all around.
9. People in Virginia need extra help? I guess? That is the conclusion I draw from these handy signs on almost every entrance ramp on Interstate 81 in Virginia.
It made me wonder - why????? Before these signs, were people getting on the freeway and making random left turns?
"Well, Bob, I am going to get on the Interstate and then I am going to turn left. Makes sense. Oh no! Wait! Oh, man! There is a sign that says 'no left turn. Dang it."
10. Some things cannot be shared.
On our final jaunt last night, we crossed back into Texas. The sun began to set, throwing gorgeous color into the sky. The sun hung big and low on the horizon, a kind of peachy-pink-sherbety orange colors. It cast an orange edge to the clouds, and threw orange, pink and blues across the sky. It was utterly lovely.
I love the beach, I love the mountains, but I love my Texas more.
I tried to get a picture, but I couldn't. Maybe it was the bug-encrusted van windows, maybe it was trees in the way. Or maybe, some things cannot be shared, but can only be experienced.
It made me sing this song to myself. (Sixpence None the Richer, but actually from a project of Rich Mullins called Canticle of the Plains). So pretty.
A million things in my head, swirling around. So much to do.
But I am not getting back in that van today, if I can help it!
I would like to give myself one thing for my birthday - the ability to love myself, the way I am, flaws and all. And it is mainly flaws.
It is hard to be a mom and a wife and not feel all your flaws, every day, like irritating, biting gnats swarming around your self-consciousness every hour of every day.
4-0.
It is kind of ironic, really. I am 40, fat, frumpy. All those things I never wanted to be. (Well, I would rather be 40 than never get there. But the other two things I could do without.)
I have never been a skinny girl. I have hated my body since I was 11 years old. I matured faster than all my friends. I hated being the only 5th grader with boobs! I hated the way my body looked and felt and moved. I have always thought I was fat.
Of course, now I realize I was not, and I would give anything to go back and be that size again.
About seven or eight years ago, I started gaining weight. Slowly. Every year some more. I had the Monkey in that time period and that added more pounds I have not been able to lose.And still I add the weight, a little at a time.
I had everything checked. My thyroid is good, my blood work is excellent. I know my hormones are off, and that is being treated for over a year, but it has not made a difference in my weight,.
And we are not talking 10 or 20 or even 30 pounds. 60 pounds in 8 years. It is a number that blows my mind.
Since this weight gain started, say 8 years ago, I have:
run
walked
been a member of a gym and attended regularly
done Weight Watchers
done South Beach
done My Fitness Pal
regular use of a stationary bike
regular use of small hand weights (5 lb each)
30 Day Shred
Insanity
Nothing helps. Sometimes I can get 10-15 pounds off, but it is only a matter of time before it creeps back on. The worst was last year, when I did 30DS for 3 months along with very careful accounting with My Fitness Pal. At the end of the 3 months, I had lost 1, maybe 2, pounds.
That is it. All that work, for nothing. And no, my clothes did not fit better, my measurements were not any different.
I can understand the weight coming off slowly, but not . . . nothing.
I hate the way I look. I feel it in my body. I hate the way clothes fit me. I hate seeing my arms, my legs, and - oh my gosh - the belly that won't die since the Monkey came along.
My weight is with me all day, every day. Every morning when I dress, every evening when I put on pjs, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. When I -shudder - see a picture of myself.
It is torture, every day.
I will not give up. My eating habits have vastly changed. I exercise, regardless of weight loss, because I know it can only be doing me good. I try to ride 6-10 miles on my stationary bike, 6 days a week, while doing my hand weights. Some weeks I may only make it 4 days, some weeks 5, some 6.
I will not give up.
But still.
I know I need to come to some kind of peace with myself. I need to learn to love myself, regardless of how I look. I know this. I crave
it.
I am just not sure how to get there.
It is my birthday wish for myself. To learn to love who I am, now, here, as I am.
Today's edition of "Husbands, Love Your Wives" is a more along the
lines of a service announcement. For you, the husband, to know how to
better love your wife in the little, daily ways.
We
women are bombarded, daily, about how we look. We are very aware we
live in a culture that values external beauty, and that beauty is
defined in a very specific way by our culture. We are reminded in every
movie, tv show, billboard, magazine ad, and catalog how our society
defines "being attractive": being thin, being young, being fashionable.
No
matter how much your wife knows she is not bound by those societal
dictates, no matter how much of her own woman she strives to be, these
things manage to slip into our subconsciousness unawares.
You
husbands have an awesome job - to love your wives. You have to power -
POWER - to build her up. You have the power to make her feel loved,
attractive, and desired. You have the power to make her feel beautiful.
Because
the truth is, most of us know we fall far short of society's demands of
outer beauty. But we don't care so much, so long as you find us beautiful!
So, what can you do?
1. The Bathing Suit Rule
Your wife should never, ever put
on a bathing suit without a sincere compliment from you. I do not care
if her chest hangs down to her feet and her stomach rolls can hide small
mammals: when she puts on a bathing suit (which is an act of bravery,
believe me!), you better say something nice. Notice her right away, and
say something to make her feel attractive.
If you say nothing,
she hears your silences as loudly as your voice. Sure, maybe you find
her attractive, but it is doing no one any good for you to feel that way
and not express it so that your wife can clearly hear it. Often. Very,
very often.
So say something.
And let's review Compliments, in general.
Acceptable: "Honey, you look goooood in that bathing suit."
Not acceptable: "You look nice."
"Nice"
does NOT cut it, guys. "You look nice" is something you tell you mother
or your sister, not your wife. Sure, it is a nice thing to say, but it
is not worthy of your wife. "Nice" is safe. It is bland. It is boring.
Save your "nice"s for family members and colleagues.
Tell your wife something only you as a husband have a right to say.
Come on! Put some sizzle into that relationship.
(One
caveat: You can get away with "nice" every once in a while, IF you are
using much better compliments other times. But use it sparingly.)
2. The Dress-Up Rule
One
day I came down for church. I had taken extra time with my clothes, my
hair, my make up. My husband looked up as I entered the room and said
nothing about how I looked, but started talking to me about something
else. My 5-year-old, on the other hand,jumped up and said, "Wow, Mom!
You look so, so pretty. You could be a princess!" He then ran to me and
kissed me. After which my husband said, "yes, you look nice today."
Who do you think made me feel more attractive?
This is very similar to the bathing suit rule. When your wife dresses up, say something. (Remember, not "You look nice").
NOTICE HER.
You
noticed her when you were dating. You sure noticed her when you were
engaged. You definitely noticed her when you first got married. If you
have gotten out of the habit of noticing her, make a better effort to be
aware of her.
See, that is the point. It isn't that you are
laying down and worshiping at the feet of our beauty. It is more about
being noticed. Knowing our husbands see us. See something beautiful in us. Something attractive. Because we often do not feel beautiful or attractive.
Of
course, she does not have to dress up in order for you to throw a
compliment her way, either. Be lavish. Be crazy with your compliments.
3. The Lonely Hand Rule
I would like to subtitle this one: how to know if you kind of stink as a husband. But I won't.
Hold
your wife's hand as much as you can. Holding hands has been a sign of
affection since we were kids. Why would that be any different now?
There is nothing more frustrating than sitting next to your husband, your hand in plain sight, and he does nothing.
Not
that it is always a good time to hold hands, but if you are regularly
leaving your wife hanging, you are kind of stinking as a husband.
Hold her hand.
Let's review:
1) Bathing suit = compliments
2) dressing up = compliments
3) Hold her hand
Well, that is enough to get you started. You have your homework. Get to it!
We sang a hymn at church today with a traditional melody, but words I did not remember, or have not noticed before. They really struck me. The words are beautiful and challenging - our faith must be a living thing, moving us towards who we are meant to be. And if our faith remains only a personal one, and finds no expression in our daily life - through love of neighbor - then it will never live.
This will be my prayer this week.
God, Whose Purpose Is To Kindle
text based on Luke 12:49, byDavid Trueblood
God, whose purpose is to kindle:
Now ignite us with your fire;
While the earth awaits your burning,
with your passion us inspire.
Overcome our sinful calmness,
Stir us with your saving name;
Baptize with your fiery Spirit,
Crown our lives with tongues of flame.
God, who in your holy gospel
will that all should truly live,
Make us sense our share of failure,
our tranquility forgive.
Teach us courage as we stuggle
in all liberating strife;
Lift the smallness of our vision
by your own abundant life.
God, who still a sword delivers
rather than a placid peace,
with your sharpened word disturb us,
from complacency release!
Save us now from satisfaction,
where we privately are free,
Yet are undisturbed in spirit
by our neighbor's misery.
I have been thinking a great deal about love and marriage this year, for some reason. And - hey! I have a Masters degree in Theology of Marriage and Family! The least I can do is muse on the subject on my little blog.
Notice the title -"v.1". I hope to write about it from time-to-time. Not that I have a plan. I probably should not be allowed to write anything until I am fully awake (which I suspect I am not, judging by the heinous typos I am making. And hoping I catch. Sorry if I don't.).
And listen, I know it goes both ways, but for now, I am JUST writing about husbands loving wives.
The Gospel reading this past Sunday is one that actually makes me think about marriage:
"What father among you would hand his son a snake
when he asks for a fish?
Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg?"
Luke 11:11-12
Or, as we often hear - "or hand him a stone when he asks for bread".
The same applies to husbands and wives.
What husband among you would give your wife nothing when she asks for more time with you? Or a lecture when she needs your listening ear? Or coldness when she needs more intimacy? Or an argument when she expresses a need?
It is much more appalling to think of handing a child a stone when he is starving, asking for bread, than it is to imagine a husband not meeting the emotional needs of his spouse.. However, many wives "starve" in marriage and receive stones or scorpions in response to their requests for emotionally nourishing bread.
I know there are many men who seem to understand that their wives may have emotional needs (talking, encouragement, support, attention, affection) that demand a lot more attention that what they themselves need to feel whole (even if they do not "understand" the reasons for these needs); however, there are also many men out there that are so confused by these needs, or the frequency of these needs, or the depth of these needs that their response to their wives' emotional needs is the exact opposite of what she really needs.
A stone for bread. A scorpion for an egg. A snake for a fish.
The fruit of this is seen in the quality of the relationship. A wife who is emotionally starving is rarely a happy woman.
I like the think (okay, maybe giggle) that the constantly complaining wife of Proverbs is actually one who just needs her husband to pay her some da$#ed attention! I like to think of this series of statements not as a warning about marrying a grouchy woman, but a warning to husbands to care for their wives in every way. If they do not - even if they believe they do - they will know it. For one, their wives will usually tell them, but if they choose not to believe her, then they will be living with the consequences: It is better to live in a corner of the housetop than in a house shared with a contentious wife. - Prov. 21:9 It is better to live in a desert land than with a contentious and fretfulwife. Prov. 21:19 It is better to live in a corner of the housetop than in a house shared with a contentious wife. Prov. 25:24 A continual dripping on a rainy day and a contentious wife are alike; Prov. 27:15
It is almost like God is giving wives permission to make their husbands' lives a living hell if they chose to not address their wives' emotional needs! I know, I know - He isn't. I think.
(Or, I could be watching too many superhero movies, where a kind-of geeky under-dog gets special powers proceeds to annoy the heck out of those who ignored her before. Or, as previously stated, I could be writing before I am fully awake. Have mercy on me.)
A Christian wife, who look to her husband to love her as Christ loves the church, may even find her relationship with God challenged when her husband - who may be a good man in most ways - neglects her emotional needs.
The danger for women, of course, is to be overly-emotional or overly-demanding of attention and affection. No one likes a leech, girls. Don't suck the life out of your man!
Husbands and wives are called to model Christ's love to one another. They are to be Jesus to one another. We need to think about how we are representing Jesus in our marriage.
