Thursday night is such a great night of TV for me. Yes, I admit that I watch TV at night and that I even watch shows that some Christians might judge me for. Oh well.
In fact, not only do I watch them, I looooove them. I get into them. Deal with it.
So, I think I will spend Fridays talking about my favorite Thursday shows. If you haven't yet watched Survivor, CSI, or Grey's Anatomy from last night, I would advise you not read on, as I don't want to spoil it for you.
First, there was Survivor: China. So far, it seems as though the teams are puttering along as well as any other season's teams: working on shelters, trying to get a fire going, whining and arguing a bit, etc. Nothing too exciting there. The challenges look like they'll be pretty physical and very very messy. In fact, the whole environment seems pretty messy. And wet. One of the team's camps was completely flooded in last night's episode. That must be miserable.
As far as who got voted out, I think they made a terrible decision in voting out the wrestler. That is not to say that I think they should have voted out the boss guy, either. In fact, I think it was utterly stupid to have those two up on the chopping block at all. We're looking at a team that is A) not in that great of shape at camp and B) not winning challenges. The boss guy works really hard at camp, so they obviously need him, and the wrestler works really hard at challenges, so they need her, too. They should have been looking to get rid of someone who isn't performing well at either, not at the two who are putting forth the most effort in both. But, no, instead of looking at what they really need, it becomes a popularity contest. In fact, the only thing they had against these two was that they kept bickering. So what?!? So you deal with a bit of bickering. Is a peaceful camp more important than one that has food, water, wood and shelter, and actually wins some challenges? This team is basically going to go down the drain very quickly if they keep making decisions like that.
On to CSI. I am soooo glad that Sarah didn't die. I mean, I was thinking that the show wouldn't want to be too obvious and keep saving all the main characters. It could have let her die and then show Grissom having to cope with all of that. But, Yay, she didn't die!!! And we are seeing that wonderful inner softness of Grissom's come out. I am LOVING it. I mean, CSI has a lot to offer someone who likes the action and mystery, etc., which I do. But, as a woman, I also like to see the inner struggles and, especially, a little romance (not sex, I mean actual romance, people) thrown into the mix. It makes it a much more well-rounded show.
Which leads me to my personal favorite, Grey's Anatomy. I have watched this show loyally and a bit obsessively since the first season. I have actually stressed about these characters and visited chat rooms to discuss them. Yes, I am just a bit too involved in it. But, after seeing last night's show, I'm not sure that my obsession will continue. It was just not the same somehow. The writing was very different, with many of the subtleties and imagery replaced with outright bluntly saying what the characters feel. I mean, instead of letting us figure out that Izzy was working so hard to save the deer because it represented her own hope and innocence, the writers had her come out and tell George "I am Bambie, Ok? I'm trying to save me." Ugh!
And the camera work was different too. They made it all jumpy, like ER. I do not like that.
Oh, and my personal least favorite is the way they're trying to give Meredith's sister the same voice as Meredith. They basically have her saying many of the same sorts of things we would hear from Meredith, although she doesn't quite pull them off as well. I am appalled at this because they seem to be implying that the sheer fact that Meredith and she share the same father would craft them into almost the same people. Meredith and her sister had very very different mothers and totally different upbringings. Meredith's special voice was born out of the traumas and difficulties she experienced throughout her twisted past. Her sister had none of these. In fact, here sister had a downright perfect upbringing. The fact that she is having some difficulties now does not mean she would suddenly develop Meredith's outlook on life. It would take years of going through what Meredith has gone through to become like her. Genes are not the only thing that makes us who we are. Circumstances have a huge impact on our outlook and attitude.
The one thing I did like, though, was the way that Derrick is not bitter about Meredith, but actually rather understanding and even forgiving of her. Let's be honest, he has been a real A__ sometimes, to the point that, for a while, I was not hoping they would get together, because I felt she deserved better than him. But right now he is redeeming himself in my eyes. I do hope it continues.
So that is my review of Thursday night TV for September 27th. Let's talk again next week, same bat time, same bat channel!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Day 30 - Man oh man
Ok, here is another potentially divisive topic. What makes a man a man? Or, what does it mean to be "manly"? I have been thinking about this on and off since a little incident occurred last week between my father and my son.
Now, my father was raised during a time in which manliness was defined as "toughness". To be a man, you must never cry when you're hurt, you must always be in charge of your family, you must never whine or complain, you must eat lots of bloody red meat, etc. Now, I'm not saying he has never failed in these. All people fail to live up to their own expectations for themselves. But he certainly has taught us, his children, that we, too, should try to live by these tough, manly codes (despite the fact that he had three daughters. Go figure). When we do, we receive his approval. When we don't, we receive his ire.
Now, I am not criticizing him. I love my dad and am so grateful for the things he has taught me. His desire for me to be tough has influenced my personality in a lot of good ways. I am not one to be stepped on. I will get in your face if you've wronged someone I love. I will not sit idly by and let someone rule my life. Just ask my poor husband. Physically, my desire to be tough allowed me to have three babies with no drugs whatsoever.
Also, I should note that this man has a completely other side to him as well. I have, hanging beside by bed, a poem that he wrote for me when I was a little girl. I have a tape of songs he has written for me, not to mention another with songs he wrote for mom and for God. I have personally witnessed him crying like a baby over the Disney movie The Little Mermaid. And, he is an aerobics instructor by hobby. Right. nuff said.
However, it is the "tough" part of him that always seems to rear its ugly head whenever my boys show anything that could remotely be interpreted as weakness. Which brings us back to the incident in question. We were at Green Lakes and Dad and Josh went on a trail which took them around another lake before rejoining the trail Mom and Julia and I were on. Somewhere along this trail, Josh was tripped up by the dog's leash, and he went down, resulting in a nasty, bleeding scrape on his elbow. Now, I know my father loves my son dearly, and that he would gladly take a bullet for him any day of the week, but somehow he has a really hard time just comforting him when he's hurt. Or even remaining silent. No, upon enduring Joshua's entirely unmanly crying (this is an 8 year old boy, afterall), Dad felt the need to point out that real men don't fuss so much over such things and that he needed to be tougher. urgh.
To his credit, and entirely to my satisfaction, Joshua did not take this criticism lying down, but went on to argue with my father over his response. At one point, he even told dad that he was "filling me (Josh) with rage." Hee hee hee. I love his way with words. Dad did smile about this response later, perhaps realizing that "toughness" can be verbal, too. In fact, he said Josh would probably go on to write a Steven King-esque novel in which the evil bad dude is a grandpa. Steven King is a very manly author, after all.
I myself was disappointed and a little angry with Dad, but also confused. I mean, I sometimes feel the same way when I see one of the boys carrying on about something hurting when we're out in public. Sadly, my personal tendency is to encourage them to buck up and take deep breaths, essentially teaching them to hide their pain around others. At home, I am much more likely to just hold them and stroke their hair when the're hurt, telling them I love them and encouraging them that it's ok to cry. So, if I think it's ok for them to cry, why do I have little patience for it in public? Could it be that I, too, feel it is not "manly" and therefore something to be ashamed of and kept behind closed doors? I don't think I feel this way, but then I kind of act like I do sometimes.
So, what do you think? Does a man have to be "tough," never showing his pain, never crying, never whining, but stoically facing each new difficulty as a challenge to be overcome? Or, is a man someone who isn't afraid to show how he feels, so long as he doesn't dwell on it and allow it to keep him from living and doing what needs to be done? And when should a boy be expected to begin such manly behaviors? 8? 9? earlier? later? It is an interesting question. I will think on it some more...
Now, my father was raised during a time in which manliness was defined as "toughness". To be a man, you must never cry when you're hurt, you must always be in charge of your family, you must never whine or complain, you must eat lots of bloody red meat, etc. Now, I'm not saying he has never failed in these. All people fail to live up to their own expectations for themselves. But he certainly has taught us, his children, that we, too, should try to live by these tough, manly codes (despite the fact that he had three daughters. Go figure). When we do, we receive his approval. When we don't, we receive his ire.
Now, I am not criticizing him. I love my dad and am so grateful for the things he has taught me. His desire for me to be tough has influenced my personality in a lot of good ways. I am not one to be stepped on. I will get in your face if you've wronged someone I love. I will not sit idly by and let someone rule my life. Just ask my poor husband. Physically, my desire to be tough allowed me to have three babies with no drugs whatsoever.
Also, I should note that this man has a completely other side to him as well. I have, hanging beside by bed, a poem that he wrote for me when I was a little girl. I have a tape of songs he has written for me, not to mention another with songs he wrote for mom and for God. I have personally witnessed him crying like a baby over the Disney movie The Little Mermaid. And, he is an aerobics instructor by hobby. Right. nuff said.
However, it is the "tough" part of him that always seems to rear its ugly head whenever my boys show anything that could remotely be interpreted as weakness. Which brings us back to the incident in question. We were at Green Lakes and Dad and Josh went on a trail which took them around another lake before rejoining the trail Mom and Julia and I were on. Somewhere along this trail, Josh was tripped up by the dog's leash, and he went down, resulting in a nasty, bleeding scrape on his elbow. Now, I know my father loves my son dearly, and that he would gladly take a bullet for him any day of the week, but somehow he has a really hard time just comforting him when he's hurt. Or even remaining silent. No, upon enduring Joshua's entirely unmanly crying (this is an 8 year old boy, afterall), Dad felt the need to point out that real men don't fuss so much over such things and that he needed to be tougher. urgh.
To his credit, and entirely to my satisfaction, Joshua did not take this criticism lying down, but went on to argue with my father over his response. At one point, he even told dad that he was "filling me (Josh) with rage." Hee hee hee. I love his way with words. Dad did smile about this response later, perhaps realizing that "toughness" can be verbal, too. In fact, he said Josh would probably go on to write a Steven King-esque novel in which the evil bad dude is a grandpa. Steven King is a very manly author, after all.
I myself was disappointed and a little angry with Dad, but also confused. I mean, I sometimes feel the same way when I see one of the boys carrying on about something hurting when we're out in public. Sadly, my personal tendency is to encourage them to buck up and take deep breaths, essentially teaching them to hide their pain around others. At home, I am much more likely to just hold them and stroke their hair when the're hurt, telling them I love them and encouraging them that it's ok to cry. So, if I think it's ok for them to cry, why do I have little patience for it in public? Could it be that I, too, feel it is not "manly" and therefore something to be ashamed of and kept behind closed doors? I don't think I feel this way, but then I kind of act like I do sometimes.
So, what do you think? Does a man have to be "tough," never showing his pain, never crying, never whining, but stoically facing each new difficulty as a challenge to be overcome? Or, is a man someone who isn't afraid to show how he feels, so long as he doesn't dwell on it and allow it to keep him from living and doing what needs to be done? And when should a boy be expected to begin such manly behaviors? 8? 9? earlier? later? It is an interesting question. I will think on it some more...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Day 29- SSMS - Schizophrenic School-Mom Syndrome
Ok, I know I haven't blogged for a few days, and I apologize to my loyal fans (snort) who simply can't live without a few profound words from me every day (guffaw). I rarely bother with weekend blogging. Monday, I didn't blog because somebody made me feel guilty over the weekend and I spent all of my free time doing housework. No, it wasn't my husband, so you can quench your righteous indignation before it boils over, splattering all over my comment zone. Oh, and yesterday I was just too darn busy. So those are my excuses, people! Get over it already!
Anyway, today I thought I should probably write about The Experiment (or school, for those who don't remember what the experiment is all about), so anyone not even remotely interested in this topic may as well stop reading now (Dad...and probably Steph...maybe even Jeremy, although he usually pretends to be interested for my sake...for that matter, is anyone interested? Well, I don't care, cause I'm going to write about it anyway! Bleh-Sticking my tongue out at all of you).
Right. So we will begin with Jacob, who is in public school for the first time this year. We went to his curriculum night last week, which is a night that we parents go to the school, hear numerous speeches from a variety of school staff, and then go sit in our child's classroom and hear about what the teacher will be attempting to teach our little urchins this year. Since he is in fourth grade, I can safely say that my hubby and I were the only parents there who had never been to anything like that before. Which would explain why I was the only one sporting a goofy grin the entire time and saying things like "What a cool idea!" and "Oh, I just have to find all of his stuff on the wall!" and "Let's go look at his locker!" all in a high-pitched girlish squeal.
Yes, I am amazed at how excited I got over the whole thing. I mean, we homeschoolers have basically rejected the establishment and thumbed our noses at "the man" (AKA the school system). I should have probably roamed the halls with my arms crossed, glowering at all the pathetic sheep parents and the wolfish teachers stealing their lambs as easy prey. But no, I looooved hearing about all of his special activities, like gym class, where they get to use pedometers!; and music class, where he'll memorize and sing little solos in front of the whole class!; and art,where he'll learn, um, lots of artsy stuff! And then to sit in his very desk, across from the parent of one of his new friends, next to the desk where Bobby (a girl he talks about like every day ooooooh) sits, where, I might add, Jeremy actually sat since her parent was not there, and to thumb through all of his little workbooks and materials and schoolish stuff, was just, like, the coolest thing ever. I mean, I have been there for basically everything in his life, literally right on top of him for all of his learning and experiences up to this point. This is the first time I've ever really let go for a long period of time, and not knowing just what he's doing all the time has been killing me! I feel like I'm missing out on so much! But for that moment, I got to feel like I was there with him. I got to see what he sees and does each day, at least in a general way. It was like a cracker for a starving woman: thank you thank you for this cracker, teacher! If only I could have some more?
But then it was over, and we were forced to leave this hallowed realm in which our children were hidden away for hours each day. My only solace was that Jeremy and I managed to leave our mark upon his other world. We left notes in his desk AND taped to his locker, and I put all of his crayons back in their box (they were rather tragically spilled all over the inside of his desk). Hah! Maybe now he'll think of me whenever he gets out a crayon, or opens his locker, and I will, in some small way, still be there with him. I really do not know how anyone could possibly send their five or six year old child off to kindergarten each day. It would be beyond me to part with them that early. I would miss them soooo much!
The tests and work I am seeing from him have improved, too. You may recall I mentioned disappointment over some extremely low math grades ( on stuff I know that he knows. Grumble grumble) that he brought home that first week. Well, gratefully, that appears to have been a product of nerves, and he is now bringing home the sort of work I would expect from him. At least in math. His writing is still appalling, but, hey, one thing at a time, right?
Oh, and those friends I was so freaked out about are still his friends, but he has several more whom he actually appears to be spending more time with, since the others don't do anything but "hang out in the field catching grasshoppers," which he has decided is downright dull. So, once again, I was just making a mountain out of a molehill when I should have just been trusting and waiting. What can I say, I'm a bit emotional these days.
So, on the whole, while letting him go into the school system has been rather traumatic for me, he seems to be adjusting just fine.
On to Joshua, my homeschooler. He, too, has adjusted very quickly to the new year, falling rather easily into a daily rhythm and puttering along like a champ. I created a new system for him, consisting of an ingenious (if I do say so myself) little flip chart where I place his assignments each day, which he then works through, one section at a time, as his schedule dictates. This is important for him for several reasons. First, he tends to get overwhelmed by seeing too much work. Last year, I gave them weekly sheets with their entire week's assignments. Generally, this led to him reading every day over and deciding it was just soooooo much work and that his life was just sooooo boring and sooo hard. He would then be completely unmotivated to do anything at all. Also, I have made this year about the periods rather than the assignments. In other words, I have broken the day into chunks (for example, Grammar from 9-9:30, Latin from 9:30-10, etc.) and have told him that when it is time to move on, he should move on, even if the assignment is not completely done. He then finishes the assignment either the next day during this period, or, occasionally, at the end of the day. This is important for him because, again, he gets overwhelmed by too much. If he sees a long assignment and thinks it will take him all day, it will, literally, take him all day, because he stares off into space or sits thinking about all the other things he'd rather be doing instead of just getting down to work. But now, knowing that no matter what he only has to do this thing for a half an hour before he gets to do something else, he is able to really concentrate on it for that time period. After all, he can even handle something completely boring as long as it's only for a half an hour.
All of this is basically about knowing my student and tailoring the program to best suit him. By contrast, Jacob's experience at school is about him forcing himself into the mold they have created. It has taken him weeks just to figure out the "way things are done" and now he is working on changing himself in order to do them that way. With Joshua, however, I have been observing him for his entire school career and can do things his way, thus saving wasted time and energy trying to force his square peg into a round hole. Some may look at that as an unrealistic representation of the world, where we are expected to adapt to our environments rather than the other way around. Yeah, that's true, but right now they are only kids. It's about teaching them reading, writing, arithmetic, etc. They can learn about the "real world" when they're teenagers. That's how homeschooler me feels, anyway. Mom-of-public-schooler-me is giddy with pride at how my Jakie is adapting so well to his new classroom experience. Talk about schizophrenia.
So, that's the update on The Experiment. Stayed tuned for future episodes. That is, if you're actually even remotely interested....
Anyway, today I thought I should probably write about The Experiment (or school, for those who don't remember what the experiment is all about), so anyone not even remotely interested in this topic may as well stop reading now (Dad...and probably Steph...maybe even Jeremy, although he usually pretends to be interested for my sake...for that matter, is anyone interested? Well, I don't care, cause I'm going to write about it anyway! Bleh-Sticking my tongue out at all of you).
Right. So we will begin with Jacob, who is in public school for the first time this year. We went to his curriculum night last week, which is a night that we parents go to the school, hear numerous speeches from a variety of school staff, and then go sit in our child's classroom and hear about what the teacher will be attempting to teach our little urchins this year. Since he is in fourth grade, I can safely say that my hubby and I were the only parents there who had never been to anything like that before. Which would explain why I was the only one sporting a goofy grin the entire time and saying things like "What a cool idea!" and "Oh, I just have to find all of his stuff on the wall!" and "Let's go look at his locker!" all in a high-pitched girlish squeal.
Yes, I am amazed at how excited I got over the whole thing. I mean, we homeschoolers have basically rejected the establishment and thumbed our noses at "the man" (AKA the school system). I should have probably roamed the halls with my arms crossed, glowering at all the pathetic sheep parents and the wolfish teachers stealing their lambs as easy prey. But no, I looooved hearing about all of his special activities, like gym class, where they get to use pedometers!; and music class, where he'll memorize and sing little solos in front of the whole class!; and art,where he'll learn, um, lots of artsy stuff! And then to sit in his very desk, across from the parent of one of his new friends, next to the desk where Bobby (a girl he talks about like every day ooooooh) sits, where, I might add, Jeremy actually sat since her parent was not there, and to thumb through all of his little workbooks and materials and schoolish stuff, was just, like, the coolest thing ever. I mean, I have been there for basically everything in his life, literally right on top of him for all of his learning and experiences up to this point. This is the first time I've ever really let go for a long period of time, and not knowing just what he's doing all the time has been killing me! I feel like I'm missing out on so much! But for that moment, I got to feel like I was there with him. I got to see what he sees and does each day, at least in a general way. It was like a cracker for a starving woman: thank you thank you for this cracker, teacher! If only I could have some more?
But then it was over, and we were forced to leave this hallowed realm in which our children were hidden away for hours each day. My only solace was that Jeremy and I managed to leave our mark upon his other world. We left notes in his desk AND taped to his locker, and I put all of his crayons back in their box (they were rather tragically spilled all over the inside of his desk). Hah! Maybe now he'll think of me whenever he gets out a crayon, or opens his locker, and I will, in some small way, still be there with him. I really do not know how anyone could possibly send their five or six year old child off to kindergarten each day. It would be beyond me to part with them that early. I would miss them soooo much!
The tests and work I am seeing from him have improved, too. You may recall I mentioned disappointment over some extremely low math grades ( on stuff I know that he knows. Grumble grumble) that he brought home that first week. Well, gratefully, that appears to have been a product of nerves, and he is now bringing home the sort of work I would expect from him. At least in math. His writing is still appalling, but, hey, one thing at a time, right?
Oh, and those friends I was so freaked out about are still his friends, but he has several more whom he actually appears to be spending more time with, since the others don't do anything but "hang out in the field catching grasshoppers," which he has decided is downright dull. So, once again, I was just making a mountain out of a molehill when I should have just been trusting and waiting. What can I say, I'm a bit emotional these days.
So, on the whole, while letting him go into the school system has been rather traumatic for me, he seems to be adjusting just fine.
On to Joshua, my homeschooler. He, too, has adjusted very quickly to the new year, falling rather easily into a daily rhythm and puttering along like a champ. I created a new system for him, consisting of an ingenious (if I do say so myself) little flip chart where I place his assignments each day, which he then works through, one section at a time, as his schedule dictates. This is important for him for several reasons. First, he tends to get overwhelmed by seeing too much work. Last year, I gave them weekly sheets with their entire week's assignments. Generally, this led to him reading every day over and deciding it was just soooooo much work and that his life was just sooooo boring and sooo hard. He would then be completely unmotivated to do anything at all. Also, I have made this year about the periods rather than the assignments. In other words, I have broken the day into chunks (for example, Grammar from 9-9:30, Latin from 9:30-10, etc.) and have told him that when it is time to move on, he should move on, even if the assignment is not completely done. He then finishes the assignment either the next day during this period, or, occasionally, at the end of the day. This is important for him because, again, he gets overwhelmed by too much. If he sees a long assignment and thinks it will take him all day, it will, literally, take him all day, because he stares off into space or sits thinking about all the other things he'd rather be doing instead of just getting down to work. But now, knowing that no matter what he only has to do this thing for a half an hour before he gets to do something else, he is able to really concentrate on it for that time period. After all, he can even handle something completely boring as long as it's only for a half an hour.
All of this is basically about knowing my student and tailoring the program to best suit him. By contrast, Jacob's experience at school is about him forcing himself into the mold they have created. It has taken him weeks just to figure out the "way things are done" and now he is working on changing himself in order to do them that way. With Joshua, however, I have been observing him for his entire school career and can do things his way, thus saving wasted time and energy trying to force his square peg into a round hole. Some may look at that as an unrealistic representation of the world, where we are expected to adapt to our environments rather than the other way around. Yeah, that's true, but right now they are only kids. It's about teaching them reading, writing, arithmetic, etc. They can learn about the "real world" when they're teenagers. That's how homeschooler me feels, anyway. Mom-of-public-schooler-me is giddy with pride at how my Jakie is adapting so well to his new classroom experience. Talk about schizophrenia.
So, that's the update on The Experiment. Stayed tuned for future episodes. That is, if you're actually even remotely interested....
Friday, September 21, 2007
Day 24- continued: Another topic for debate
Speaking of which (referring to the last two lines of the last post), What do you all think of breast-feeding in public? I personally think that all women everywhere should be made to feel completely comfortable breast-feeding in public. I mean, that's what they're there for, people. God created a woman's breasts to feed her babies. Period. It took men's twisted mommy issues to transform them into something unmentionable that must be covered up at all times. Fine, so that damage has been done and we must all maintain a certain measure of privacy so as not to enflame the poor pathetic males who cannot concentrate when even the word "breast" is mentioned in open conversation (unless, of course, it is a conversation about "chicken breasts," in which case the stomach wins out over the, well, you know). But to then imply that one must hide them when they are doing that very thing for which they were created is completely pathetic and wrong. It is not some dirty habit that should be held to designated places, like smoking, or something that's just gross and smelly, like peeing and...number two, nor is it in any way sexual and thus prone to censorship. Breastfeeding is a natural, beautiful, necessary component of life and therefor should be allowed, and encouraged, to take place out in the open anywhere and everywhere.
Comments? Opinions?
Comments? Opinions?
Day 24- The Best Job Ever
I decided today that being a mom is the best job ever. This is not exactly a new revelation for me, as I seem to realize it every few months or so. But still, in the in-between, I have a tendency to forget just how great this job is.
I mean, basically I get to hang out with my children all day. These are God's gifts to me, these amazing little people, and they LOVE me. Whether I deserve their love or not is beside the point. They simply adore me, just the way I am. How many people get to spend their entire day around people who adore them? I don't have to deal with catty co-workers or annoying bosses. I have only my wonderful offspring and perhaps the odd grocery store worker to handle each day.
Also, I am in almost complete control over my own day. Of course I need to do certain things at certain times, especially since my toddler loves her routines and my home-schooled son has a pretty set schedule of his own. But, should I choose to, I can scrap all of that and do something else completely. For example, yesterday we scrapped our 10:00-1:00 routine in favor of a jaunt to Green Lakes with my parents. And that was FINE! I didn't have to answer to anybody for it, or proffer excuses, or make up for lost time later. It was completely ok to simply do what I wanted when I wanted to! Talk about being your own boss!
I have very little manual labor to do. Yes, I clean the house, but is that really all that difficult? No, not when compared to most other manual jobs out there. The most strenuous part of my day is probably carrying my toddler around, and, come one, that's like carrying a teddy bear with some weight to it. I mean, how much more pleasant would it be to lift heavy boxes if the boxes hugged and kissed you each time?
This is not at all to say that motherhood is not sometimes stressful and difficult. From time to time I have definitely experienced a level of frustration and weariness that would drive a cubicle dweller to shout "Take this job and shove it!" in a heartbeat. But, on the whole, the perks of spending time playing outside in the sunlight and watching my baby's eyes light up when I sing her a simple tune are better than the biggest monetary bonus a firm could offer. This is why I can unequivocally state that being a mom is by far the best job ever.
Agree? Disagree? Talk amongst yourselves, comment at will. I am open to debate on this and any topic!
I mean, basically I get to hang out with my children all day. These are God's gifts to me, these amazing little people, and they LOVE me. Whether I deserve their love or not is beside the point. They simply adore me, just the way I am. How many people get to spend their entire day around people who adore them? I don't have to deal with catty co-workers or annoying bosses. I have only my wonderful offspring and perhaps the odd grocery store worker to handle each day.
Also, I am in almost complete control over my own day. Of course I need to do certain things at certain times, especially since my toddler loves her routines and my home-schooled son has a pretty set schedule of his own. But, should I choose to, I can scrap all of that and do something else completely. For example, yesterday we scrapped our 10:00-1:00 routine in favor of a jaunt to Green Lakes with my parents. And that was FINE! I didn't have to answer to anybody for it, or proffer excuses, or make up for lost time later. It was completely ok to simply do what I wanted when I wanted to! Talk about being your own boss!
I have very little manual labor to do. Yes, I clean the house, but is that really all that difficult? No, not when compared to most other manual jobs out there. The most strenuous part of my day is probably carrying my toddler around, and, come one, that's like carrying a teddy bear with some weight to it. I mean, how much more pleasant would it be to lift heavy boxes if the boxes hugged and kissed you each time?
This is not at all to say that motherhood is not sometimes stressful and difficult. From time to time I have definitely experienced a level of frustration and weariness that would drive a cubicle dweller to shout "Take this job and shove it!" in a heartbeat. But, on the whole, the perks of spending time playing outside in the sunlight and watching my baby's eyes light up when I sing her a simple tune are better than the biggest monetary bonus a firm could offer. This is why I can unequivocally state that being a mom is by far the best job ever.
Agree? Disagree? Talk amongst yourselves, comment at will. I am open to debate on this and any topic!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Day 23- Ode to Green Lakes
Five minute drive
To Green Lakes State Park;
Free, in the autumn,
Open morning till dark.
Bottomless lakes
Of a lovely blue-green,
Home to a "monster"
More imagined than seen.
Walking on paths
Lined with foliage and trees,
Shaded by branches
And cooled by a breeze.
Light gently strained
Through a green canopy
Patterns and shadows
Dance all around me.
A break in the trees,
A view unsurpassed,
A moment of peace,
If it only could last.
Daughter and mother
And grandmother stand,
Three generations,
Shoeless toes in the sand.
One two three "wee!"
Joyous squeals of delight
Everyone smiles at the wonderful sight.
God made it all and it bears His bold mark:
Glorious Peacefulness,
Green Lakes State Park.
Thank you, thank you very much. I'll be signing autographs all morning. Pictures will cost five dollars apiece, ten if personalized...
To Green Lakes State Park;
Free, in the autumn,
Open morning till dark.
Bottomless lakes
Of a lovely blue-green,
Home to a "monster"
More imagined than seen.
Walking on paths
Lined with foliage and trees,
Shaded by branches
And cooled by a breeze.
Light gently strained
Through a green canopy
Patterns and shadows
Dance all around me.
A break in the trees,
A view unsurpassed,
A moment of peace,
If it only could last.
Daughter and mother
And grandmother stand,
Three generations,
Shoeless toes in the sand.
One two three "wee!"
Joyous squeals of delight
Everyone smiles at the wonderful sight.
God made it all and it bears His bold mark:
Glorious Peacefulness,
Green Lakes State Park.
Thank you, thank you very much. I'll be signing autographs all morning. Pictures will cost five dollars apiece, ten if personalized...
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Day 22- Perhaps if I had a pregnant-woman sized stroller and a nurse named Juan to push it...
Well, it's an absolutely beautiful day here. It's sunny and cool, like 78 degrees or so. It's absolutely perfect. Today is the kind of day that I wish we had all year round. It's the kind of day that makes me want to take the kids to the zoo or the park or something. So why am I still here? Because, you see, my pregnant body has betrayed me and I have no energy. I feel like crawling into bed and sleeping for the rest of the day. I can't, of course, so I force myself to keep going, keep moving, keep caring for my kids. But go to the zoo or park or something more? No way jose, says this body. Coffee has not helped, food has not helped. I simply have no energy today. Do you have some to spare? I'll pay good money for it! No? -sigh-
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Day 21- Things That Annoy Me
I have to say, some things really annoy me. Actually, many things really annoy me, but today, we're just going to focus on one: really stupid people. I don't mean people who do stupid things and then go, "Whoops! That was dumb!" I have been known to do this on more than a few occasions myself. No, I am talking about the stupid people who do stupid things and then BLAME SOMEONE ELSE FOR IT. I hate that.
What do I mean? Well, I'm sure my sister, the lawyer, runs into them all the time. They're the people who sue companies for not warning them not to do incredibly stupid things, like eat paint, or wash your hands with bleach, or the ever-popular put-scalding-cup-of-coffee-on-lap-while-driving-lady. They're the people who blame their parents, or their upbringing, or something else in their past for every dumb thing they've ever done in their life. They're the people who commit crimes and have the gall to suggest that it was society's bias against them that forced them to do it. People who seem to lack any sense of guilt or shame for choices they themselves made that led to bad consequences. Those people really annoy me.
For example, my other sister (who I do not blame for this. She was only trying to prevent me, another potential idiot, from making the same mistake) forwarded me an e-mail that is circulating around warning us all about the incredibly dangerous product known as Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Apparently, this mother felt the need to sound the alarm about the terrible chemical burns her son got on his arms and face after rubbing the magic eraser all over himself. This occurred, mind you, after she handed her FIVE YEAR OLD son the eraser and told him he could go around cleaning the house with it. Ok, hello, but this is a household cleaning product. This is not a toy. These babies can take any stain off of practically any surface. They are amazingly good at what they do. Which is cleaning. Gee, I wonder why they work so well? Could it be because of the many chemicals and cleaning agents in them? I wonder if it might be a bit dangerous to hand such a thing to a five year old?
Now, if I was the stupid mother who did this, I would be completely appalled at the results, run my child to the ER as quickly as possible, and hang my head in shame over my own total lack of common sense. I would probably then never ever admit to anyone that I had done such a thing. But not this mom. No, she blames the company. She talks about suing them for not properly warning her that this could happen. I have an old box of these under my kitchen sink, and clearly printed on the back of the box, in red letters, is "Warning: Keep out of reach of children." Well, that seems fairly straight-forward to me. Perhaps she needed a definition of "children"? Or of "reach?"
But I have to say, even if the warning were not printed in red letters on the back, would it matter? Do you need someone to spell out a warning not to let your child play on a steep roof? Or with sharp knives? Or with chemical-infused household cleaners? I would hope not, but apparently...
So, if you are a stupid person who does stupid things, like me, please please just acknowledge your own stupidity and try to learn from it. Don't blame the rest of the world for your own bad choices. Sometimes it really is just your own silly fault!
And that concludes this addition of "Things That Annoy Me." The way this world is today, I am quite certain it won't be the last.
What do I mean? Well, I'm sure my sister, the lawyer, runs into them all the time. They're the people who sue companies for not warning them not to do incredibly stupid things, like eat paint, or wash your hands with bleach, or the ever-popular put-scalding-cup-of-coffee-on-lap-while-driving-lady. They're the people who blame their parents, or their upbringing, or something else in their past for every dumb thing they've ever done in their life. They're the people who commit crimes and have the gall to suggest that it was society's bias against them that forced them to do it. People who seem to lack any sense of guilt or shame for choices they themselves made that led to bad consequences. Those people really annoy me.
For example, my other sister (who I do not blame for this. She was only trying to prevent me, another potential idiot, from making the same mistake) forwarded me an e-mail that is circulating around warning us all about the incredibly dangerous product known as Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Apparently, this mother felt the need to sound the alarm about the terrible chemical burns her son got on his arms and face after rubbing the magic eraser all over himself. This occurred, mind you, after she handed her FIVE YEAR OLD son the eraser and told him he could go around cleaning the house with it. Ok, hello, but this is a household cleaning product. This is not a toy. These babies can take any stain off of practically any surface. They are amazingly good at what they do. Which is cleaning. Gee, I wonder why they work so well? Could it be because of the many chemicals and cleaning agents in them? I wonder if it might be a bit dangerous to hand such a thing to a five year old?
Now, if I was the stupid mother who did this, I would be completely appalled at the results, run my child to the ER as quickly as possible, and hang my head in shame over my own total lack of common sense. I would probably then never ever admit to anyone that I had done such a thing. But not this mom. No, she blames the company. She talks about suing them for not properly warning her that this could happen. I have an old box of these under my kitchen sink, and clearly printed on the back of the box, in red letters, is "Warning: Keep out of reach of children." Well, that seems fairly straight-forward to me. Perhaps she needed a definition of "children"? Or of "reach?"
But I have to say, even if the warning were not printed in red letters on the back, would it matter? Do you need someone to spell out a warning not to let your child play on a steep roof? Or with sharp knives? Or with chemical-infused household cleaners? I would hope not, but apparently...
So, if you are a stupid person who does stupid things, like me, please please just acknowledge your own stupidity and try to learn from it. Don't blame the rest of the world for your own bad choices. Sometimes it really is just your own silly fault!
And that concludes this addition of "Things That Annoy Me." The way this world is today, I am quite certain it won't be the last.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Day 19: Welcome, Welcome, One and All and Nursery Time Terror
I just had a funny thing happen. A friend of mine revealed to me that she has been reading this blog, having received the address from my father. Why he is giving out the address to a blog that I think he's visited all of twice, I have no idea, but this is beside the point. The point is that I had a moment of absurd embarrassment and shock at the idea that someone I actually know is reading my inner-most thoughts. Now, this is completely absurd because, obviously, if I am posting my inner-most thoughts onto the Internet, I can't possibly mind people reading them. And I don't. Really. I like the fact that people might happen upon this blog and realize, after reading how messed up I am inside, that it is ok to be a bit messed up. In fact, it is down-right normal. I firmly believe that I am simply saying stuff that a lot of people think but are afraid to say out loud.
But these folks happening upon the blog are basically supposed to be strangers. Yes, my family reads it, but they already know I'm weird and filled with foibles, and, as mentioned before, it is their job to accept me as I am. And they do, so I'm not worried about them. Friends, people from church, people who generally only see the carefully crafted outer-Jess, on the other hand, do not have to accept me. So, suddenly part of me began screaming "Oh no! What will she think of me? What if she tells others about it? Will they all think I'm insane? Will I be shunned forever? Stoned? Sent to live in a leper camp on the outskirts of town, yelling "unclean" at anyone who comes too close?"
Well, then, of course, the logical part of me starts to talk to the nutsy part, and I realize that, duh, I really can't possibly mind if people I know read these thoughts if I don't mind strangers reading them. This is me. This is who I am. I cannot be ashamed of who I am inside. I will not change what I write or how I act based on fears of not being accepted or liked. True friends will always accept me. And hey, maybe it would be nice for some of the people I know to understand that it's ok to be a bit less-than-perfect inside. That homeschoolers can question whether they're doing the right things in the right ways. That moms can feel unhappy or overwhelmed or even angry without being bad moms. That Christians can be resentful or depressed or whatever humans really do feel without being less christian. Believe me, I live in such a land of "perfection" that it would probably be refreshing for a few of the soccer moms around here to have a little angst with their coffee. Or not. Whatever. The point is, if you come to this blog and enjoy reading it, you are WELCOME here. I will continue to be 100% honest about all sorts of things that I think and feel. If you don't enjoy it, don't bother reading it. I won't be insulted.
So, I went to church this morning, and put all three children into their individual rooms. All three. Including Julia. She is a year and a half old, and I still cannot stand the thought of handing her off to people while I go do something else. I HATE IT. She cries for me and I basically want to shove everyone between her and me out of the way, grab her, and run. I guess this is that lioness instinct of protecting one's cubs. I am the huge mother bear lurking behind the trees. You may think that baby bear is cute, but step too close and I will appear, ready to rip your puny head off your shoulders. However, being a human and desiring to make my husband happy by actually joining him for the sermon, I fight this instinct as best I can, turn from my crying child, and step out the door. And stand there. Listening.
F i g h t i n g m y s e l f. Not...going...in...even...though...I...can...hear...her...crying...
louder...and...louder...and...
This was the point last time where I broke down, went in, grabbed her back, and happily spent the next hour walking around the church lobby with her cute little hand firmly grasped in mine. Today, however, just as I was losing my grip on my self-control, who should appear but my mother making her way purposefully towards me and the nursery door. "Go listen to the sermon," she insisted. "I'll keep track of her."
"No, no, you go listen, I'll wait here until she calms down. Then I'll be right behind you" I said, trying to hide the fact that I was inches away from getting Julia OUT of there.
"I want you to be able to listen this week," she said, slowly working her way over to the window, hoping to see Julia without being seen by her. "Oh, she's really upset," she said, with a worried, slightly panicked look on her face. And suddenly I was watching my own struggle take place in her eyes. She wanted to go in. Needed to go in. Was..fighting...herself...
And then she grabbed a volunteer name tag and went in with her! Hah! She's just as pathetic as I am! The difference was that I wasn't allowed to just go in and sit with her, since I'm not an approved volunteer in the children's area, but mom is! Well, I felt much better knowing mom was in there, so I actually went and sat with my husband listening to the sermon. After all, I knew an even fiercer creature, the Grandma Bear, was watching over my little cub. Watch your puny little heads around her. She doesn't mess around.
But these folks happening upon the blog are basically supposed to be strangers. Yes, my family reads it, but they already know I'm weird and filled with foibles, and, as mentioned before, it is their job to accept me as I am. And they do, so I'm not worried about them. Friends, people from church, people who generally only see the carefully crafted outer-Jess, on the other hand, do not have to accept me. So, suddenly part of me began screaming "Oh no! What will she think of me? What if she tells others about it? Will they all think I'm insane? Will I be shunned forever? Stoned? Sent to live in a leper camp on the outskirts of town, yelling "unclean" at anyone who comes too close?"
Well, then, of course, the logical part of me starts to talk to the nutsy part, and I realize that, duh, I really can't possibly mind if people I know read these thoughts if I don't mind strangers reading them. This is me. This is who I am. I cannot be ashamed of who I am inside. I will not change what I write or how I act based on fears of not being accepted or liked. True friends will always accept me. And hey, maybe it would be nice for some of the people I know to understand that it's ok to be a bit less-than-perfect inside. That homeschoolers can question whether they're doing the right things in the right ways. That moms can feel unhappy or overwhelmed or even angry without being bad moms. That Christians can be resentful or depressed or whatever humans really do feel without being less christian. Believe me, I live in such a land of "perfection" that it would probably be refreshing for a few of the soccer moms around here to have a little angst with their coffee. Or not. Whatever. The point is, if you come to this blog and enjoy reading it, you are WELCOME here. I will continue to be 100% honest about all sorts of things that I think and feel. If you don't enjoy it, don't bother reading it. I won't be insulted.
So, I went to church this morning, and put all three children into their individual rooms. All three. Including Julia. She is a year and a half old, and I still cannot stand the thought of handing her off to people while I go do something else. I HATE IT. She cries for me and I basically want to shove everyone between her and me out of the way, grab her, and run. I guess this is that lioness instinct of protecting one's cubs. I am the huge mother bear lurking behind the trees. You may think that baby bear is cute, but step too close and I will appear, ready to rip your puny head off your shoulders. However, being a human and desiring to make my husband happy by actually joining him for the sermon, I fight this instinct as best I can, turn from my crying child, and step out the door. And stand there. Listening.
F i g h t i n g m y s e l f. Not...going...in...even...though...I...can...hear...her...crying...
louder...and...louder...and...
This was the point last time where I broke down, went in, grabbed her back, and happily spent the next hour walking around the church lobby with her cute little hand firmly grasped in mine. Today, however, just as I was losing my grip on my self-control, who should appear but my mother making her way purposefully towards me and the nursery door. "Go listen to the sermon," she insisted. "I'll keep track of her."
"No, no, you go listen, I'll wait here until she calms down. Then I'll be right behind you" I said, trying to hide the fact that I was inches away from getting Julia OUT of there.
"I want you to be able to listen this week," she said, slowly working her way over to the window, hoping to see Julia without being seen by her. "Oh, she's really upset," she said, with a worried, slightly panicked look on her face. And suddenly I was watching my own struggle take place in her eyes. She wanted to go in. Needed to go in. Was..fighting...herself...
And then she grabbed a volunteer name tag and went in with her! Hah! She's just as pathetic as I am! The difference was that I wasn't allowed to just go in and sit with her, since I'm not an approved volunteer in the children's area, but mom is! Well, I felt much better knowing mom was in there, so I actually went and sat with my husband listening to the sermon. After all, I knew an even fiercer creature, the Grandma Bear, was watching over my little cub. Watch your puny little heads around her. She doesn't mess around.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Day 16- When I Grow Up, I Want to Be...
Tell me this. When exactly does one begin to feel "grown up"?
I am now twenty-nine years old, one foot hanging over the edge of my twenties, about to plunge headlong into my thirties, and I still feel like a kid inside. It seems like I hit maybe 15 and have never felt much older than that. I wonder, will I always feel this way? Will I be 85 someday, wondering how exactly I could have hit such an auspicious age without gaining a bit of that elderly wisdom and confidence I had always looked forward to?
Is it just me, or does everyone feel this way? Do we all struggle with those same high school fears and uncertainties, no matter how old we get? And why is it that so much of our "selves" is formed in that span of about fifteen years, from age 5 to age twenty? I mean, we live, God willing, eighty or so years on this earth, in this body, but it is ten to fifteen near the beginning that seem to form us most. Or, at the very least, to affect us most. How many people are working through something that happened to them when they were in their thirties when they hit 75? Or isn't it more likely that they're working through something that happened when they were 18 instead? I mean, I still struggle with issues that popped up in fourth grade. FOURTH GRADE! That is just SAD! Not to mention the fact that it makes my insides twist in a knot to think of how much I have to make sure the next ten years of my boys' lives go well, or they could be effected by it for the rest of their lives! Aaaargh...can't...take...the pressure!
For example, am I the only one who runs into a clique of "cool" women and feel like I want to fall through the floor and disappear? I have this group of women living just down the street, one of which is the quintessential "cool" girl from your high school. No, not the snotty snobby one who went on to become pregnant and live in a trailer park because she was too "cool" to say no to ANY of the jocks who wanted to get in her pants. I mean the cool one who wore the trendiest clothes and did the sports and the activities and was sooo nice to everyone that everybody just loved her. And they still do! And you can't even resent her without feeling like scum, because she really is sooo nice. Yeah, that girl. She and these two other women, who are slightly less "cool" but still part of her clique so they have the cool confidence and slightly condescending attitude that comes included with their membership card, are at the bus stop each day, and, I swear, I am just as nervous facing them as I was facing such girls back in high school. Perhaps if I was the vice-president of the United States or a brain surgeon or something, I wouldn't feel this way anymore. Then again, maybe it would just be the "cool" girls in the West Wing or the "cool" surgeons causing my internal terrors. Why are we affected so strongly by the opinions of other people? Who cares what they think, especially if they're not your friends anyway?
This is why I love family so much. You never have to feel nervous around your family, no matter how "cool" they may be, because they have no choice but to accept you. It's their job. If they don't, it's their problem and they're the ones with issues, not you. (please note: this does not include in-laws. It is actually in their job description to make you feel as unaccepted and unworthy as possible.) And I have been blessed enough to have a family that accepts and loves and encourages me no matter what. That's what this world is all about. Family. I think I'll have about ten more kids...
I am now twenty-nine years old, one foot hanging over the edge of my twenties, about to plunge headlong into my thirties, and I still feel like a kid inside. It seems like I hit maybe 15 and have never felt much older than that. I wonder, will I always feel this way? Will I be 85 someday, wondering how exactly I could have hit such an auspicious age without gaining a bit of that elderly wisdom and confidence I had always looked forward to?
Is it just me, or does everyone feel this way? Do we all struggle with those same high school fears and uncertainties, no matter how old we get? And why is it that so much of our "selves" is formed in that span of about fifteen years, from age 5 to age twenty? I mean, we live, God willing, eighty or so years on this earth, in this body, but it is ten to fifteen near the beginning that seem to form us most. Or, at the very least, to affect us most. How many people are working through something that happened to them when they were in their thirties when they hit 75? Or isn't it more likely that they're working through something that happened when they were 18 instead? I mean, I still struggle with issues that popped up in fourth grade. FOURTH GRADE! That is just SAD! Not to mention the fact that it makes my insides twist in a knot to think of how much I have to make sure the next ten years of my boys' lives go well, or they could be effected by it for the rest of their lives! Aaaargh...can't...take...the pressure!
For example, am I the only one who runs into a clique of "cool" women and feel like I want to fall through the floor and disappear? I have this group of women living just down the street, one of which is the quintessential "cool" girl from your high school. No, not the snotty snobby one who went on to become pregnant and live in a trailer park because she was too "cool" to say no to ANY of the jocks who wanted to get in her pants. I mean the cool one who wore the trendiest clothes and did the sports and the activities and was sooo nice to everyone that everybody just loved her. And they still do! And you can't even resent her without feeling like scum, because she really is sooo nice. Yeah, that girl. She and these two other women, who are slightly less "cool" but still part of her clique so they have the cool confidence and slightly condescending attitude that comes included with their membership card, are at the bus stop each day, and, I swear, I am just as nervous facing them as I was facing such girls back in high school. Perhaps if I was the vice-president of the United States or a brain surgeon or something, I wouldn't feel this way anymore. Then again, maybe it would just be the "cool" girls in the West Wing or the "cool" surgeons causing my internal terrors. Why are we affected so strongly by the opinions of other people? Who cares what they think, especially if they're not your friends anyway?
This is why I love family so much. You never have to feel nervous around your family, no matter how "cool" they may be, because they have no choice but to accept you. It's their job. If they don't, it's their problem and they're the ones with issues, not you. (please note: this does not include in-laws. It is actually in their job description to make you feel as unaccepted and unworthy as possible.) And I have been blessed enough to have a family that accepts and loves and encourages me no matter what. That's what this world is all about. Family. I think I'll have about ten more kids...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Day 15- Life and stuff
It's been a while since I last blogged, because I have been BUSY! That, and any free time I've had since Sunday night I have used on my one and only hubby, who is home again. YAY! My world is so much better when he is here. I am complete again.
Updates. Let's see, Jacob is still enjoying public school immensely, and, though I still don't see a lot of improvement in the math he's been bringing home, I have noticed an interesting increase in vocabulary usage the past few days. He's coming out with interesting words and phrases that I assume are coming from his teachers. He also sparks with interest and life, which is really what I hoped he would experience. I can give him a good education, but he seems like he's missed out on so much life, if you know what I mean. For example, yesterday's big thing was the DDR room that his class was able to go to at recess. It stands for Disco Dance Room, and it incorporates those dancing video game things that you stand on. As the music plays, you have to dance and move according to the arrows on a big screen. Anyway, he came home raving about how fun dancing is and what good exercise it was. "I was dripping sweat like a rain storm!" he exclaimed happily. How neat! He has always liked to dance at home, but now he really REALLY likes it. And he's not afraid to do it in front of the other kids, either. Now that's living a fuller life.
Joshua also experienced a new musical outlet yesterday. I have signed him up for a homeschooler's chorus I just discovered that meets at our church every Tuesday afternoon. He really enjoyed singing and learning new songs, although his favorite part by far was being with the other kids. I am very thankful to find another opportunity to give him some socialization time.
Actually, this year is shaping up to be a lot more social for all of us. Why, just the simple act of walking to the bus stop each morning and afternoon forces us to interact and converse with the variety of parents and children there. Picking up Jacob occasionally from school has caused me to run into a few mothers I don't get to see very often, too. And then I get to interact with other homeschoolers when I bring Josh to stuff, and through e-mails as well. I'm kind of getting the best of both worlds right now. For someone who tends to hide miserly in her own little realm, this is all very stretching. I'm actually rather enjoying it.
Another interesting development of late is my physical activity level. I have long despised practically any and all physical activity. It's not that I'm horrendously weak or fat or anything, but I'm just rather lazy. I generally don't see the point and therefor don't bother. But this year I have found myself taking hikes with the family, on purpose, just for the sake of hiking. Previously, the extent of my hiking has been around the mall or, when forced by my husband, around our little neighborhood.
Another example: On Monday, we went to Jacob's soccer practice, which is right next to a little road that is closed off whenever school is not in session, and I spent the entire practice walking up and down the road with Julia. No, I didn't sit in one of those cute fold up chairs all of us soccer moms bring everywhere. I was actually exercising the whole time! For fun! You have no idea how shocked last-year-me would be to see that. But it was nice! I think having Julia has changed me in ways even I didn't realize. Somehow, I'm becoming a healthier person as I try to make sure she's becoming a healthy person. I don't know why it didn't happen when the boys were babies. Probably because I didn't have any reason to get out of the house at all. So it's the combination of the boys' activities getting me out and about and Julia prodding me to get up and go while I'm out there. See, kids are good for you in soooo many ways!
So, right now we're all being stretched to live fuller, healthier, more interesting lives. Afterall, each day is a gift from God, and, though we might not all have the opportunity to do something amazing and profound each day, that is no excuse for not making the most of everything we can do. Being a mom may not make the world ooh and aah, but it is my life, and it's a good one.
Updates. Let's see, Jacob is still enjoying public school immensely, and, though I still don't see a lot of improvement in the math he's been bringing home, I have noticed an interesting increase in vocabulary usage the past few days. He's coming out with interesting words and phrases that I assume are coming from his teachers. He also sparks with interest and life, which is really what I hoped he would experience. I can give him a good education, but he seems like he's missed out on so much life, if you know what I mean. For example, yesterday's big thing was the DDR room that his class was able to go to at recess. It stands for Disco Dance Room, and it incorporates those dancing video game things that you stand on. As the music plays, you have to dance and move according to the arrows on a big screen. Anyway, he came home raving about how fun dancing is and what good exercise it was. "I was dripping sweat like a rain storm!" he exclaimed happily. How neat! He has always liked to dance at home, but now he really REALLY likes it. And he's not afraid to do it in front of the other kids, either. Now that's living a fuller life.
Joshua also experienced a new musical outlet yesterday. I have signed him up for a homeschooler's chorus I just discovered that meets at our church every Tuesday afternoon. He really enjoyed singing and learning new songs, although his favorite part by far was being with the other kids. I am very thankful to find another opportunity to give him some socialization time.
Actually, this year is shaping up to be a lot more social for all of us. Why, just the simple act of walking to the bus stop each morning and afternoon forces us to interact and converse with the variety of parents and children there. Picking up Jacob occasionally from school has caused me to run into a few mothers I don't get to see very often, too. And then I get to interact with other homeschoolers when I bring Josh to stuff, and through e-mails as well. I'm kind of getting the best of both worlds right now. For someone who tends to hide miserly in her own little realm, this is all very stretching. I'm actually rather enjoying it.
Another interesting development of late is my physical activity level. I have long despised practically any and all physical activity. It's not that I'm horrendously weak or fat or anything, but I'm just rather lazy. I generally don't see the point and therefor don't bother. But this year I have found myself taking hikes with the family, on purpose, just for the sake of hiking. Previously, the extent of my hiking has been around the mall or, when forced by my husband, around our little neighborhood.
Another example: On Monday, we went to Jacob's soccer practice, which is right next to a little road that is closed off whenever school is not in session, and I spent the entire practice walking up and down the road with Julia. No, I didn't sit in one of those cute fold up chairs all of us soccer moms bring everywhere. I was actually exercising the whole time! For fun! You have no idea how shocked last-year-me would be to see that. But it was nice! I think having Julia has changed me in ways even I didn't realize. Somehow, I'm becoming a healthier person as I try to make sure she's becoming a healthy person. I don't know why it didn't happen when the boys were babies. Probably because I didn't have any reason to get out of the house at all. So it's the combination of the boys' activities getting me out and about and Julia prodding me to get up and go while I'm out there. See, kids are good for you in soooo many ways!
So, right now we're all being stretched to live fuller, healthier, more interesting lives. Afterall, each day is a gift from God, and, though we might not all have the opportunity to do something amazing and profound each day, that is no excuse for not making the most of everything we can do. Being a mom may not make the world ooh and aah, but it is my life, and it's a good one.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Day 10 - Hormones and stuff
I've decided that my emotions are just a little too overpowering lately. I'm going to blame pregnancy, you know, all those hormones pumping through me. It's a lot like when you're getting your period, except for nine months straight.
Sometimes those hormones just make me kind of gushy. Last week, I found myself crying over every sad or poignant commercial I saw. Books, too. Actually, I even cried a bit over the newspaper. And every little sweet thing the boys did or said made me tear up. They soon realized that mommy's sniffling was not, in fact, a cold coming on as they first suspected.
While dripping like a faucet over every little thing isn't fantastically fun, I would gladly take that over this week's emotion: anger. I have always had anger issues (thanks dad), but over the past few years have really learned to control it. Or at least I'm better. Ok, I'm still working on it, but I usually don't get angry over little stuff like I have been this week. It's not the explosive anger that I used to struggle with, but rather a seething, boiling feeling deep within me that lets loose in geysers of hot steam from time to time. The past two afternoons, after about fifteen minutes home, poor Jacob resembled something usually served at a bad Japanese restaurant. The first day, it was over those other kids I spoke of yesterday. Last night, it was over some extremely disappointing math work he brought home. If this keeps up, the poor child will simply not want to come home anymore!
And it's really not fair, either. My anger was at those other kids, not at Jacob, so he really should not have been the one to bear the brunt of it. And of course he's going to do badly on his work for the first few weeks. I mean, with all of the other changes and pressures upon him in this totally new environment, who could concentrate on math? I absolutely should not have reacted to it. As my mom so wisely pointed out, he has a new teacher. Now he needs me to be his mom.
The final slap in the face (although a good one, like the kind a friend gives you when you're crying hysterically and just need to calm down already) was what happened when I apologized to Jake for my over-reaction. He said "That's ok mom. I know it's the end of a long, hard day for you. I understand if you're a little grumpy." I don't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. Instead of focusing on himself or on how unfair I was or anything like that, he basically looked straight into my heart and responded with sympathy for me. For ME. He is an unbelievably sweet kind-hearted boy. Frankly, after this, I don't care if he fails every class. He's got a good heart. The rest is meaningless.
So, with that, I felt the last bit of steam leave my body and now feel drained, but no longer angry. I am very VERY thankful for that. Let's hope next week my hormones stop effecting me so much and I can stay on an even keel for a little while. Or at least find a less destructive emotion to be overwhelmed by. How about peace?
Sometimes those hormones just make me kind of gushy. Last week, I found myself crying over every sad or poignant commercial I saw. Books, too. Actually, I even cried a bit over the newspaper. And every little sweet thing the boys did or said made me tear up. They soon realized that mommy's sniffling was not, in fact, a cold coming on as they first suspected.
While dripping like a faucet over every little thing isn't fantastically fun, I would gladly take that over this week's emotion: anger. I have always had anger issues (thanks dad), but over the past few years have really learned to control it. Or at least I'm better. Ok, I'm still working on it, but I usually don't get angry over little stuff like I have been this week. It's not the explosive anger that I used to struggle with, but rather a seething, boiling feeling deep within me that lets loose in geysers of hot steam from time to time. The past two afternoons, after about fifteen minutes home, poor Jacob resembled something usually served at a bad Japanese restaurant. The first day, it was over those other kids I spoke of yesterday. Last night, it was over some extremely disappointing math work he brought home. If this keeps up, the poor child will simply not want to come home anymore!
And it's really not fair, either. My anger was at those other kids, not at Jacob, so he really should not have been the one to bear the brunt of it. And of course he's going to do badly on his work for the first few weeks. I mean, with all of the other changes and pressures upon him in this totally new environment, who could concentrate on math? I absolutely should not have reacted to it. As my mom so wisely pointed out, he has a new teacher. Now he needs me to be his mom.
The final slap in the face (although a good one, like the kind a friend gives you when you're crying hysterically and just need to calm down already) was what happened when I apologized to Jake for my over-reaction. He said "That's ok mom. I know it's the end of a long, hard day for you. I understand if you're a little grumpy." I don't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. Instead of focusing on himself or on how unfair I was or anything like that, he basically looked straight into my heart and responded with sympathy for me. For ME. He is an unbelievably sweet kind-hearted boy. Frankly, after this, I don't care if he fails every class. He's got a good heart. The rest is meaningless.
So, with that, I felt the last bit of steam leave my body and now feel drained, but no longer angry. I am very VERY thankful for that. Let's hope next week my hormones stop effecting me so much and I can stay on an even keel for a little while. Or at least find a less destructive emotion to be overwhelmed by. How about peace?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Day 9- Reasons my life doesn't suck
Not in any particular order:
1. No one I know and love is seriously hurt or dying.
2. My children are healthy and reasonably happy.
3. I have a wonderful husband to miss.
4. I have everything I need and many of the things I want.
5. I am not in serious financial straits.
6. I know the Truth of Jesus Christ and have been Saved by it.
7. My entire family (with the exception of Julia, who is too young to understand yet) has been Saved and will be together in Heaven.
8. I still have both parents, both sisters, and one grandma.
9. My in-laws live far away.
10. I am quite certain that if I ever had real need of help there are people in my church who would help me.
11. I am loved.
12. I love others.
13. I can see, hear, feel, think, read, walk, talk, and sing.
14. I don't have to go to work each day.
15. I have free time to write a blog.
16. God knows my name.
Ok, there are many, many more reasons than this. I just needed to list a few and remind myself of how good I have it and how much worse things could be.
I did not write anything yesterday because I felt whiny and didn't want to shame myself. I also was having a hard time getting outside of myself enough to write about it. I am doing a bit better today. No, I am not going to whine about everything that I was feeling and all that happened yesterday. Suffice it to say that nothing really bad happened, just a pile of annoying things.
I will, however, write about day one of the experiment, as promised. As I mentioned on Tuesday, I decided not to give Joshua any real work for the day. Rather, he began the morning with his Grandma as I took Jacob to the school, and then we all went to visit his Great-Grandma for lunch. This turned out to be a very good strategy, as he had something nice to tell Jacob about when Jacob was going on and on about his school day.
On to Jacob. On the surface, it appeared to be a good day for him. He enjoyed his art class, liked his teacher, did some work (although very little real stuff), and made some friends. It was not until we delved a little further into his day that the problems began to surface. Yes, he made some "friends," but these boys basically spent the entire lunch and recess period peppering him with questions about all the things he wasn't allowed to do and bragging to him about all that they could do. For example, they watch PG-13 and even a few R movies. They play all kinds of video games, and own several of the newest gaming systems. They watch Spongebob and Nickelodeon. They hardly ever read. Frankly, they sound like their parents let them do everything unwholesome and immoral that I have chosen not to allow him to. Fine. Of course they do. After all, this is not a christian school. What made me mad was the fact that they made him feel bad about the fact that he didn't do those things. As I said to him, it's like someone making fun of him for eating filet mignon because they prefer to eat poop! ( I find that introducing the word Poop into my illustrations from time to time really gets their attention. They always look up at me with a somewhat shocked, amused expression, like, wow, mom said "poop!" It's all about knowing your audience, and mine are 8 and 9 year old boys.) It's simply ludicrous for him to feel bad for ignoring the lesser things in order to do the finer ones. I think he was with me by the end of the conversation. Still, the whole thing just made me so mad! I know, I know, this is exactly what I should have expected. I just didn't realize it would happen on day one! I mean, Satan really didn't waste any time trying to get his claws into him once he left my safe little haven. And I know he's far from finished, too. This is just the beginning of a long, long fight.
Which left me feeling rather like I should just call the school and yank him out right then and there. Yes, I must let go sometime, but I may have jumped the gun a bit. I mean, he's only 9 years old. I'm not ready for this kind of daily battle against the world's influence yet. But no, I have to give this a little more time. Maybe he'll surprise me. Maybe he'll find it within himself to stand up against these sorts of bad influences. I will be watching very very carefully, though.
So that was day one. One of the longest days of my life. But I'm not one to whine...
1. No one I know and love is seriously hurt or dying.
2. My children are healthy and reasonably happy.
3. I have a wonderful husband to miss.
4. I have everything I need and many of the things I want.
5. I am not in serious financial straits.
6. I know the Truth of Jesus Christ and have been Saved by it.
7. My entire family (with the exception of Julia, who is too young to understand yet) has been Saved and will be together in Heaven.
8. I still have both parents, both sisters, and one grandma.
9. My in-laws live far away.
10. I am quite certain that if I ever had real need of help there are people in my church who would help me.
11. I am loved.
12. I love others.
13. I can see, hear, feel, think, read, walk, talk, and sing.
14. I don't have to go to work each day.
15. I have free time to write a blog.
16. God knows my name.
Ok, there are many, many more reasons than this. I just needed to list a few and remind myself of how good I have it and how much worse things could be.
I did not write anything yesterday because I felt whiny and didn't want to shame myself. I also was having a hard time getting outside of myself enough to write about it. I am doing a bit better today. No, I am not going to whine about everything that I was feeling and all that happened yesterday. Suffice it to say that nothing really bad happened, just a pile of annoying things.
I will, however, write about day one of the experiment, as promised. As I mentioned on Tuesday, I decided not to give Joshua any real work for the day. Rather, he began the morning with his Grandma as I took Jacob to the school, and then we all went to visit his Great-Grandma for lunch. This turned out to be a very good strategy, as he had something nice to tell Jacob about when Jacob was going on and on about his school day.
On to Jacob. On the surface, it appeared to be a good day for him. He enjoyed his art class, liked his teacher, did some work (although very little real stuff), and made some friends. It was not until we delved a little further into his day that the problems began to surface. Yes, he made some "friends," but these boys basically spent the entire lunch and recess period peppering him with questions about all the things he wasn't allowed to do and bragging to him about all that they could do. For example, they watch PG-13 and even a few R movies. They play all kinds of video games, and own several of the newest gaming systems. They watch Spongebob and Nickelodeon. They hardly ever read. Frankly, they sound like their parents let them do everything unwholesome and immoral that I have chosen not to allow him to. Fine. Of course they do. After all, this is not a christian school. What made me mad was the fact that they made him feel bad about the fact that he didn't do those things. As I said to him, it's like someone making fun of him for eating filet mignon because they prefer to eat poop! ( I find that introducing the word Poop into my illustrations from time to time really gets their attention. They always look up at me with a somewhat shocked, amused expression, like, wow, mom said "poop!" It's all about knowing your audience, and mine are 8 and 9 year old boys.) It's simply ludicrous for him to feel bad for ignoring the lesser things in order to do the finer ones. I think he was with me by the end of the conversation. Still, the whole thing just made me so mad! I know, I know, this is exactly what I should have expected. I just didn't realize it would happen on day one! I mean, Satan really didn't waste any time trying to get his claws into him once he left my safe little haven. And I know he's far from finished, too. This is just the beginning of a long, long fight.
Which left me feeling rather like I should just call the school and yank him out right then and there. Yes, I must let go sometime, but I may have jumped the gun a bit. I mean, he's only 9 years old. I'm not ready for this kind of daily battle against the world's influence yet. But no, I have to give this a little more time. Maybe he'll surprise me. Maybe he'll find it within himself to stand up against these sorts of bad influences. I will be watching very very carefully, though.
So that was day one. One of the longest days of my life. But I'm not one to whine...
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Day 7 continued
Well, as I already made quite clear, today is a depressed day for me. My husband is gone for five days and I am not very good at the whole alone thing. I have never actually been alone in my life. I basically went from home to dorm (with two roommates) to marriage. So, every time he goes away I get very down and a bit lost. I have great amounts of respect for any woman who has lived on her own. I honestly don't think I could do it.
Speaking of which, I must offer my hearty congratulations to my oldest sister on her newest arrival. She and her new husband have now entered parenthood (of a sort). They've adopted...a puppy! Pedro the Chihuahua, welcome to our family! I can't wait to meet you, or at least to see some pictures of you in your adorable sweater. Tell me, Steph, will you carry him around in a puppy purse? And, did you mean to name him after dad, or is that just a funny coincidence?
So, tomorrow is the big day around here. The Experiment will officially begin, as Jacob goes to his very first day at the new school. He seems to be doing fine, but I'm terrified. It's too late to turn back now, though, so we'll just have to hope, and pray, for the best.
Jeremy is upset that he'll be missing the big day. He hates being away from the kids for so long, especially when important stuff is happening in their lives. He did something really sweet, though. The boys just got new cd players with headphones, which they loooooove to listen to, so he made them a "daddy mix" for each day that he's gone. Each morning I will present them with one, and by the end of the week they'll have four new cd's to listen to, all with messages from daddy written on them. He said his dad never did anything like that for him. In fact, he can't remember ever receiving a note with "I love you" written on it from him. It's funny, you might think boys don't need that smooshy stuff, but they really do. They just won't come out and ask for it like girls do. He is working extra hard to make sure he gives that sort of love to his boys, and I love him so much for it. Seriously, I could not ask for a better dad for my children, or a better husband for that matter. Back off girls, this man is MINE!
Meanwhile, Joshua, the eight year old who I am still homeschooling, is quite upset that he won't be going to school as well. I'm trying not to take this too personally. Afterall, to them the public school experience boils down to lots of kids, gym class, a playground, and cool lunches. Who wouldn't want that? In a sad attempt to bribe him into a better attitude, I'm not giving him any actual work on his first day, but am taking him and his sister to visit their great-grandmother (who he adores) instead. He perked up considerably when he heard that, saying "That's one good thing about homeschool. You never know when mom will give you a day off!" Ok, I know it's pathetic, but at this point I'll gladly take anything positive from him.
So that's what's going on in my neck of the woods. I will now trudge upstairs to prepare my first of soon to be too many bagged lunches for my eldest. Really, I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes off to college. Jeremy's going to have to drug me or something. That is, if he's not away on business....
Speaking of which, I must offer my hearty congratulations to my oldest sister on her newest arrival. She and her new husband have now entered parenthood (of a sort). They've adopted...a puppy! Pedro the Chihuahua, welcome to our family! I can't wait to meet you, or at least to see some pictures of you in your adorable sweater. Tell me, Steph, will you carry him around in a puppy purse? And, did you mean to name him after dad, or is that just a funny coincidence?
So, tomorrow is the big day around here. The Experiment will officially begin, as Jacob goes to his very first day at the new school. He seems to be doing fine, but I'm terrified. It's too late to turn back now, though, so we'll just have to hope, and pray, for the best.
Jeremy is upset that he'll be missing the big day. He hates being away from the kids for so long, especially when important stuff is happening in their lives. He did something really sweet, though. The boys just got new cd players with headphones, which they loooooove to listen to, so he made them a "daddy mix" for each day that he's gone. Each morning I will present them with one, and by the end of the week they'll have four new cd's to listen to, all with messages from daddy written on them. He said his dad never did anything like that for him. In fact, he can't remember ever receiving a note with "I love you" written on it from him. It's funny, you might think boys don't need that smooshy stuff, but they really do. They just won't come out and ask for it like girls do. He is working extra hard to make sure he gives that sort of love to his boys, and I love him so much for it. Seriously, I could not ask for a better dad for my children, or a better husband for that matter. Back off girls, this man is MINE!
Meanwhile, Joshua, the eight year old who I am still homeschooling, is quite upset that he won't be going to school as well. I'm trying not to take this too personally. Afterall, to them the public school experience boils down to lots of kids, gym class, a playground, and cool lunches. Who wouldn't want that? In a sad attempt to bribe him into a better attitude, I'm not giving him any actual work on his first day, but am taking him and his sister to visit their great-grandmother (who he adores) instead. He perked up considerably when he heard that, saying "That's one good thing about homeschool. You never know when mom will give you a day off!" Ok, I know it's pathetic, but at this point I'll gladly take anything positive from him.
So that's what's going on in my neck of the woods. I will now trudge upstairs to prepare my first of soon to be too many bagged lunches for my eldest. Really, I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes off to college. Jeremy's going to have to drug me or something. That is, if he's not away on business....
Day 7
My husband just left. Boarding a plane to Germany in a couple of hours. Will be gone until Sunday. Depressed. Worried. Sad. Lonely.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Day 6- lack-of-labor day
Today was a highly enjoyable day. As my title implies, it was a day when we had no real labor to do and just spent time together as a family. We made a big breakfast, had a leisurely morning, then went out to my parents' house for the afternoon. It was just about perfect.
All of this gave me an opportunity to take a good long look at my family, and I have some observations. I must say that my family is rather strange, and I love it. Let's start with my youngest son. He has a writer's soul, and though he claims to dislike writing (I think he's basically too lazy to want to sit down and do it), I believe he cannot help but become some sort of writer when he grows up. He has had a way with words since he first started speaking. For example, this morning I awoke to the sound of my boys fighting in their room. They actually don't get physical with each other very often, so this was a very unusual thing to hear. I sprang up from my bed and hurried into the room to put a stop to it. As I asked each in turn what was happening, Joshua (my 8 yr old), between tearful pauses, said things like this: "We were locked in a furious battle," "I flew at him in a rage," and why? well "He had stolen my last hope of making a lightsaber." Yes, these words were actually coming out of his mouth, and he was totally serious. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. It was just a fight over some lego pieces, but he managed to make it sound like something out of a fantasy novel. He's an amazing little guy with quite the artist's flair, that is for sure.
Next, there is my father. He is such a good grandpa to these boys. He and my mother recently built a tree house in their backyard (they have five acres of land, about three of which are pretty wild), and he spends time with my boys out there, pretending and playing just like a kid. It is hilarious the kinds of things he comes up with. I never know exactly what they're pretending, but you tend to hear things like "zombie" and "laser" and even "spiderman" if you happen to wander through their territory. And tonight, I looked out of an upstairs window to find him teaching them to do a "fire dance" as they waited for their father to light a campfire. It involved more stomping and pointing than actual dancing, with some grunts thrown in for good measure. Truly precious.
My mother is not your usual grandmother, either. She has more energy than I will probably ever have. Mind you, she's not old or anything. She had us children pretty young, and I had children pretty young myself, so she and my father are really only in their late forties, early fifties. Still, you'd think maybe they would be slowing down a bit. But no, that was my mother racing down the paths with Joshua as they played a game of tag with her Labrador, her long blond (totally natural, too. We all hate her for it) hair flying behind her like some sort of gypsy vision.
Really, my parents, in a nutshell, are full of life. They have always reached out and grabbed life, living it to its fullest. No matter what they are doing, they never fail to do it with flare and passion. Some people would probably find that a bit embarrassing, but not me. I find them thrilling and intoxicating. And now I get to watch my own children experience it. They don't even realize how blessed they are to have grandparents like them. Someday, they will, though.
Anyway, it was a great day, spent with great people, doing not much of anything, but just being together. It's the kind of day we may not remember much about years from now, but it will build up our souls, making us into bigger, better human beings. That may not be what President Cleveland had in mind when he created the Labor Day holiday, but I'd like to thank him for it just the same.
All of this gave me an opportunity to take a good long look at my family, and I have some observations. I must say that my family is rather strange, and I love it. Let's start with my youngest son. He has a writer's soul, and though he claims to dislike writing (I think he's basically too lazy to want to sit down and do it), I believe he cannot help but become some sort of writer when he grows up. He has had a way with words since he first started speaking. For example, this morning I awoke to the sound of my boys fighting in their room. They actually don't get physical with each other very often, so this was a very unusual thing to hear. I sprang up from my bed and hurried into the room to put a stop to it. As I asked each in turn what was happening, Joshua (my 8 yr old), between tearful pauses, said things like this: "We were locked in a furious battle," "I flew at him in a rage," and why? well "He had stolen my last hope of making a lightsaber." Yes, these words were actually coming out of his mouth, and he was totally serious. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. It was just a fight over some lego pieces, but he managed to make it sound like something out of a fantasy novel. He's an amazing little guy with quite the artist's flair, that is for sure.
Next, there is my father. He is such a good grandpa to these boys. He and my mother recently built a tree house in their backyard (they have five acres of land, about three of which are pretty wild), and he spends time with my boys out there, pretending and playing just like a kid. It is hilarious the kinds of things he comes up with. I never know exactly what they're pretending, but you tend to hear things like "zombie" and "laser" and even "spiderman" if you happen to wander through their territory. And tonight, I looked out of an upstairs window to find him teaching them to do a "fire dance" as they waited for their father to light a campfire. It involved more stomping and pointing than actual dancing, with some grunts thrown in for good measure. Truly precious.
My mother is not your usual grandmother, either. She has more energy than I will probably ever have. Mind you, she's not old or anything. She had us children pretty young, and I had children pretty young myself, so she and my father are really only in their late forties, early fifties. Still, you'd think maybe they would be slowing down a bit. But no, that was my mother racing down the paths with Joshua as they played a game of tag with her Labrador, her long blond (totally natural, too. We all hate her for it) hair flying behind her like some sort of gypsy vision.
Really, my parents, in a nutshell, are full of life. They have always reached out and grabbed life, living it to its fullest. No matter what they are doing, they never fail to do it with flare and passion. Some people would probably find that a bit embarrassing, but not me. I find them thrilling and intoxicating. And now I get to watch my own children experience it. They don't even realize how blessed they are to have grandparents like them. Someday, they will, though.
Anyway, it was a great day, spent with great people, doing not much of anything, but just being together. It's the kind of day we may not remember much about years from now, but it will build up our souls, making us into bigger, better human beings. That may not be what President Cleveland had in mind when he created the Labor Day holiday, but I'd like to thank him for it just the same.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Day 5- Fortunately, it's the weekend.
Ok, now I'm just mad. I just wrote out about three quarters of a post, and it just disappeared. That, my friend, is completely annoying. I simply do not feel like re-writing everything I wrote.
So, I will write something else completely. Fortunately, Unfortunately. Have you ever played that game? It's a create-a-story kind of game that we like to play with our kids. It goes like this: The first person starts a story, like "One day a boy named Joseppe walked to the store to buy a gallon of milk. Fortunately, his mother had given him enough for the milk and a treat for himself." Then person two has to make the story take a negative turn, like "Unfortunately, on the way he was accosted by a large bully who stole the money from him." Then person three gives a positive twist, like "Fortunately, an alien ship chose that moment to land in the exact spot the bully was standing. Joseppe cheerfully collected his money back from the bully's twitching outstretched hand and continued on his way." Person four gives a negative, and so on and so forth. It's a fun game, especially when you have to think your way out of a difficult unfortunately, or when you create a particularly nasty unfortunately and get to watch the next person squirm as they try to think of something to help the poor character being tossed about by the tides of our imaginations.
As a game, this is all very pleasant and mind-stretching. However, as a way of life, it can be quite tiring. What do I mean? Well, Whenever I bring up something nice or positive, it seems like my husband is compelled by some inner demon to try to dampen my parade with an unfortunately. He says that I do it, too, so I cannot completely lay the blame on him. Suffice it to say, all too often our conversations go something like this:
Jess- "I see the house down the street is for sale. Maybe a nice family with kids will move in."
Jeremy- "Probably some college jerks who'll be up all night partying."
Or
Jeremy- "It looks like it will be sunny and in the eighties for our trip!"
Jess- "Oh dear, the kids will get terrible sunburns waiting in line for the rides!"
As you can see, it really doesn't end up leaving one feeling like all is well in the world.
I do think that Jeremy is more often the one who brings up the unfortunate side of things (I believe the word for his personality type is "pessimist"). The apparent cause of his pessimism became crystal clear after a conversation he had tonight with his own parents. He came away from it feeling completely drained, and talking about the way they "always seem to take things so badly," is what I think he said. Upon further discussion, we realized that they had trained Jeremy to look at the world through dark grey glasses through their own constant negativity. Sadly, for them, it seems, the game should be called Unfortunately, Unfortunately.
We have therefor decided to work extra hard at being more positive about things, in hopes of preventing a similar effect on our own children. Whenever we hit an unfortunately, we will try very hard to come up with a fortunately to make the world seem nicer.
Thus, I ended tonight's conversation about his parents with this fortunate thought: "Well, at least they live six hours away. And we have an answering machine, so we don't even have to talk to them!" Aaah, I feel much better.
So, I will write something else completely. Fortunately, Unfortunately. Have you ever played that game? It's a create-a-story kind of game that we like to play with our kids. It goes like this: The first person starts a story, like "One day a boy named Joseppe walked to the store to buy a gallon of milk. Fortunately, his mother had given him enough for the milk and a treat for himself." Then person two has to make the story take a negative turn, like "Unfortunately, on the way he was accosted by a large bully who stole the money from him." Then person three gives a positive twist, like "Fortunately, an alien ship chose that moment to land in the exact spot the bully was standing. Joseppe cheerfully collected his money back from the bully's twitching outstretched hand and continued on his way." Person four gives a negative, and so on and so forth. It's a fun game, especially when you have to think your way out of a difficult unfortunately, or when you create a particularly nasty unfortunately and get to watch the next person squirm as they try to think of something to help the poor character being tossed about by the tides of our imaginations.
As a game, this is all very pleasant and mind-stretching. However, as a way of life, it can be quite tiring. What do I mean? Well, Whenever I bring up something nice or positive, it seems like my husband is compelled by some inner demon to try to dampen my parade with an unfortunately. He says that I do it, too, so I cannot completely lay the blame on him. Suffice it to say, all too often our conversations go something like this:
Jess- "I see the house down the street is for sale. Maybe a nice family with kids will move in."
Jeremy- "Probably some college jerks who'll be up all night partying."
Or
Jeremy- "It looks like it will be sunny and in the eighties for our trip!"
Jess- "Oh dear, the kids will get terrible sunburns waiting in line for the rides!"
As you can see, it really doesn't end up leaving one feeling like all is well in the world.
I do think that Jeremy is more often the one who brings up the unfortunate side of things (I believe the word for his personality type is "pessimist"). The apparent cause of his pessimism became crystal clear after a conversation he had tonight with his own parents. He came away from it feeling completely drained, and talking about the way they "always seem to take things so badly," is what I think he said. Upon further discussion, we realized that they had trained Jeremy to look at the world through dark grey glasses through their own constant negativity. Sadly, for them, it seems, the game should be called Unfortunately, Unfortunately.
We have therefor decided to work extra hard at being more positive about things, in hopes of preventing a similar effect on our own children. Whenever we hit an unfortunately, we will try very hard to come up with a fortunately to make the world seem nicer.
Thus, I ended tonight's conversation about his parents with this fortunate thought: "Well, at least they live six hours away. And we have an answering machine, so we don't even have to talk to them!" Aaah, I feel much better.
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