Sunday, June 20, 2010
When no Father's Day card fits for your father
For those who have been hurt by their fathers, and have trouble finding just the right Father's Day card.... I found this, for you. It's beautiful and hopeful.
Happy Father's Day!
Happy Father's Day!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
counting my blessings
Counting my blessings, crying tears over them:
- Many hands together in the Saturday pancake batter.
- Holding my Beth during dinner prep, because she smells good, her cheeks are soft for kissing, she is curious and happy when observing kitchenchaos work.
- My Paul, telling me tonight, "I'm sorry my voice is loud, Mommy. I just get so excited sometimes. I think I can't help it."
- My children, who kiss their daddy happily before he leaves for work.
- My husband, who never forgets my kiss.
- Many hands in the brownie frosting, cocoa powder and powdered sugar all over the kitchen. "This is the best frosting I have ever tasted!"--shouted, loudly! by Paul. See above.
- My Peter, who loves food so much he can barely contain himself on dessert nights. He finishes first, jumps up, and says, "I'll go get the brownies and some plates!" Meanwhile, the rest of us are only half-way through our dinner. At eight years old, he eats far more than I do and burns every calorie. I love his passion--for insects, for amphibians, for food, for cooking and baking, for life.
- For my Mary, who went in the kiddy pool without a swimmy diaper. "Be sure and come back if you have to go potty", Momma reminds. "Don't go in the pool." Mary is fully capable, but she's holding on to diapers to preserve something special between Momma and herself. She wants to be a big girl...she is a big girl in many ways....but to do all the potty things herself is to say goodbye to a relationship. Diapering is a relationship. I sense her letting go. My guess is in about six weeks, she'll never look back.
She ran in the house needing to go, but someone had locked the door to the bathroom accidentally, and the delay meant she peed on the floor by the toilet.
"Mommy, I accidentally peed on the floor." She waits. Studies my face.
"Okay", said Momma. "Go ahead and wash your hands in the other bathroom while I clean this up."
"Are you mad at me, Mommy?" (Mary is my sweetest child at this time. So sensitive and lovely.)
"No, my love. This wasn't your fault. You came in just like Momma asked you to."
"Thank you, Mommy."
Thank you, Mary. Thank you.
I love you, my precious ones! All of you!
- Many hands together in the Saturday pancake batter.
- Holding my Beth during dinner prep, because she smells good, her cheeks are soft for kissing, she is curious and happy when observing kitchen
- My Paul, telling me tonight, "I'm sorry my voice is loud, Mommy. I just get so excited sometimes. I think I can't help it."
- My children, who kiss their daddy happily before he leaves for work.
- My husband, who never forgets my kiss.
- Many hands in the brownie frosting, cocoa powder and powdered sugar all over the kitchen. "This is the best frosting I have ever tasted!"--shouted, loudly! by Paul. See above.
- My Peter, who loves food so much he can barely contain himself on dessert nights. He finishes first, jumps up, and says, "I'll go get the brownies and some plates!" Meanwhile, the rest of us are only half-way through our dinner. At eight years old, he eats far more than I do and burns every calorie. I love his passion--for insects, for amphibians, for food, for cooking and baking, for life.
- For my Mary, who went in the kiddy pool without a swimmy diaper. "Be sure and come back if you have to go potty", Momma reminds. "Don't go in the pool." Mary is fully capable, but she's holding on to diapers to preserve something special between Momma and herself. She wants to be a big girl...she is a big girl in many ways....but to do all the potty things herself is to say goodbye to a relationship. Diapering is a relationship. I sense her letting go. My guess is in about six weeks, she'll never look back.
She ran in the house needing to go, but someone had locked the door to the bathroom accidentally, and the delay meant she peed on the floor by the toilet.
"Mommy, I accidentally peed on the floor." She waits. Studies my face.
"Okay", said Momma. "Go ahead and wash your hands in the other bathroom while I clean this up."
"Are you mad at me, Mommy?" (Mary is my sweetest child at this time. So sensitive and lovely.)
"No, my love. This wasn't your fault. You came in just like Momma asked you to."
"Thank you, Mommy."
Thank you, Mary. Thank you.
I love you, my precious ones! All of you!
Friday, June 18, 2010
my hovering persona
Kristin, from We Are That Family, posted a great story and link regarding rescuing girls from human trafficking. There are few things as horrid and as wrong in this world. I'm sure even five dollars would help.
___________________________________
Sundays have become far busier. Additional part-time work hours were up for grabs, and of course husband took them immediately, since we're scrambling to make house payments nowadays. He now works at least nine Sunday hours.
We had to find an evening church service, since our little church has only one option--10:45 a.m--which breaks up the day quite a bit. Without a second car, our options were limited. The kids will still stay in Wednesday AWANA at our current church, when it starts up again.
The only thing we could find was the same semi-mega church we had been to a couple years ago. I took Beth to the nursery, because there was no cry room and because the music was too loud for her in the sanctuary.
I noticed their sign. They don't allow parents in the nursery.
Forgive my rebelliousness, but that didn't set well with me. I'm all for kids enjoying themselves and making new friends apart from mom, when appropriate. But to say that I'm not allowed in, period? As though I were the enemy? As though I didn't know what's best for my own child, in terms of adjustment? And even when the workers were complete strangers to me? What's the world coming to, I asked myself. Government-school mentality has taken over churches! Hello Big Brother.
Before I could think further, they gave me a pager. I felt somewhat more comfortable. If she didn't settle down shortly, they would page me and I would come for her. Or so I thought.
They never paged. I figured she fell in love with the jumbo sized balls they had in there. I was praying for her quite a bit.
After service we went to get her, and I found out that she never started playing, and she never entirely calmed down. They seemed underwhelmed by her, which makes me wonder if she had one of her stubborn fits. Her eyes were swollen. She looked a mess.
Can I just say, I WAS FURIOUS! (No, I didn't show it outwardly.) How dare they? What was the pager for, for heaven's sake! Eighty-five minutes had gone by!
They told me the kids usually have to cry the first few visits to get used to the nursery.
For eighty-five minutes? And upset all the other children? How pleasant is that? How often do new kids come and "cry it out"? This was a huge church; they probably took new children frequently.
I didn't say much, since I had no intention of ever using their nursery again. We are stuck at their evening service, but I will just pace the halls alone with my baby, or stay home while the others go.
I hate all my options.
On the way home, I mentioned to my husband the possibility of starting a home church. I was depressed and discouraged.
I also really like the family-integrated church idea, in which the whole family worships together the entire service. The opposite of this idea has permeated most churches, in which the whole family arrives together, but then goes off into different areas of the church campus. I think worship should bring a family closer. Nowadays, it does anything but this.
Family Integrated Churches (cropping up in many cities and states) probably have cry rooms, which you don't see much anymore. I would definitely see other Mommas parenting their active toddlers or nursing their babies. Nowadays I always feel alone when I keep my baby with me. An outcast. A helicopter parent.
See me hover!
Which two people did God entrust these children with, after all? Who was uniquely chosen as their spiritual trainer and as the lover of their soul?
Okay, off my soapbox about that now.
But alas. There are no integrated churches within fifty miles. And husband is too overwhelmed with job searches and multiple part-time jobs and money worries to think about starting our own living-room church. Plus, he thinks at this point it would be too isolating, since we would start out as the only attendees. He's a big people person, although not in a salesmen sense.
I say put a sign on the lawn and let them come!
Home churches, too, are becoming common as more and more families decide contemporary corporate worship has lost much of its value, with the family scattering upon arrival. They are an option preferred by larger families, partly due to the burden of dressing up so many children. At least that's my hunch.
Anyhow, Sunday is coming soon and I dread it.
My two middle kids love their classes, and they are looking forward to tomorrow. My oldest still has his anxiety due to that fateful day last summer in which my husband accidentally left Mary in the church nursery after Vacation Bible School. He drove immediately back to get her and she wasn't fazed in the least. But Peter has never gotten over it. His anxiety-riddled mind convinces him that he will be left (forgotten) in a building without his family. So he attends with us in the sanctuary, but would rather be in a class. We would like him to face his fears, but otherwise we like that he worships with us, obviously. We're letting him make the decision.
I certainly hope your family enjoys services tomorrow! Happy Sunday!
I'll work through this, surely.
Find a Family Integrated Church near you.
___________________________________
Sundays have become far busier. Additional part-time work hours were up for grabs, and of course husband took them immediately, since we're scrambling to make house payments nowadays. He now works at least nine Sunday hours.
We had to find an evening church service, since our little church has only one option--10:45 a.m--which breaks up the day quite a bit. Without a second car, our options were limited. The kids will still stay in Wednesday AWANA at our current church, when it starts up again.
The only thing we could find was the same semi-mega church we had been to a couple years ago. I took Beth to the nursery, because there was no cry room and because the music was too loud for her in the sanctuary.
I noticed their sign. They don't allow parents in the nursery.
Forgive my rebelliousness, but that didn't set well with me. I'm all for kids enjoying themselves and making new friends apart from mom, when appropriate. But to say that I'm not allowed in, period? As though I were the enemy? As though I didn't know what's best for my own child, in terms of adjustment? And even when the workers were complete strangers to me? What's the world coming to, I asked myself. Government-school mentality has taken over churches! Hello Big Brother.
Before I could think further, they gave me a pager. I felt somewhat more comfortable. If she didn't settle down shortly, they would page me and I would come for her. Or so I thought.
They never paged. I figured she fell in love with the jumbo sized balls they had in there. I was praying for her quite a bit.
After service we went to get her, and I found out that she never started playing, and she never entirely calmed down. They seemed underwhelmed by her, which makes me wonder if she had one of her stubborn fits. Her eyes were swollen. She looked a mess.
Can I just say, I WAS FURIOUS! (No, I didn't show it outwardly.) How dare they? What was the pager for, for heaven's sake! Eighty-five minutes had gone by!
They told me the kids usually have to cry the first few visits to get used to the nursery.
For eighty-five minutes? And upset all the other children? How pleasant is that? How often do new kids come and "cry it out"? This was a huge church; they probably took new children frequently.
I didn't say much, since I had no intention of ever using their nursery again. We are stuck at their evening service, but I will just pace the halls alone with my baby, or stay home while the others go.
I hate all my options.
On the way home, I mentioned to my husband the possibility of starting a home church. I was depressed and discouraged.
I also really like the family-integrated church idea, in which the whole family worships together the entire service. The opposite of this idea has permeated most churches, in which the whole family arrives together, but then goes off into different areas of the church campus. I think worship should bring a family closer. Nowadays, it does anything but this.
Family Integrated Churches (cropping up in many cities and states) probably have cry rooms, which you don't see much anymore. I would definitely see other Mommas parenting their active toddlers or nursing their babies. Nowadays I always feel alone when I keep my baby with me. An outcast. A helicopter parent.
See me hover!
Which two people did God entrust these children with, after all? Who was uniquely chosen as their spiritual trainer and as the lover of their soul?
Okay, off my soapbox about that now.
But alas. There are no integrated churches within fifty miles. And husband is too overwhelmed with job searches and multiple part-time jobs and money worries to think about starting our own living-room church. Plus, he thinks at this point it would be too isolating, since we would start out as the only attendees. He's a big people person, although not in a salesmen sense.
I say put a sign on the lawn and let them come!
Home churches, too, are becoming common as more and more families decide contemporary corporate worship has lost much of its value, with the family scattering upon arrival. They are an option preferred by larger families, partly due to the burden of dressing up so many children. At least that's my hunch.
Anyhow, Sunday is coming soon and I dread it.
My two middle kids love their classes, and they are looking forward to tomorrow. My oldest still has his anxiety due to that fateful day last summer in which my husband accidentally left Mary in the church nursery after Vacation Bible School. He drove immediately back to get her and she wasn't fazed in the least. But Peter has never gotten over it. His anxiety-riddled mind convinces him that he will be left (forgotten) in a building without his family. So he attends with us in the sanctuary, but would rather be in a class. We would like him to face his fears, but otherwise we like that he worships with us, obviously. We're letting him make the decision.
I certainly hope your family enjoys services tomorrow! Happy Sunday!
I'll work through this, surely.
Find a Family Integrated Church near you.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
no recollection = grace
The flavor of your parenting experience depends in large part, it seems to me, on the spacing of your children, and on the sex of the eldest children.
Having a girl first is easier. Girls are mature enough at young ages to help Momma quite a bit. It's not that boys can't be systematically trained, just that girls need far less training at younger ages. My three-year-old daughter is much more mature than her brothers were at the same age. Really, no comparison. She has a natural drive to mature, while the boys seemed to have a natural drive to let Mom do everything for them, when they could swing it.
Natural birth control facilitated by on-demand breastfeeding lasts between 6 and 18 months. Consequently, some women can have babies 15 months apart, while others experience a rhythm of 18 to 27 months apart.
I find myself in an incredibly busy season, so I think of these spacing issues frequently. Most days I scratch my head and think, "How does anyone do this well? I am over my head!" Basic hygiene and nutrition needs take up most of my day.
And then there's the laundry.
Never mind the dust bunnies and the various surfaces in need of a good wiping.
I keep coming back to this thought: There simply must be a way to do this well! After all, our Lord created our womanly bodies. He knows the childrearing rhythm he had in mind. Having children every two years or so, or more often, can make for a very frazzled Momma.
So, what exactly was he thinking?
All I know is this. And I think of it often--guilty, overwhelmed mom that I am.
By the time a child is ten years old, she doesn't remember the details of her life before the age of four or five.
Tell me God, is that Grace in action for us overwhelmed Mommas? They actually lose the memory of Momma having an eye-rolling frenzy over spilt milk....over fingers in the diaper poo.....over a wet diaper right after a potty visit.....over food flung to the floor by a tired baby? They have no recollection of my worst moments?
Good. Then I can start from scratch tomorrow, making self-control a part of my persona? I haven't ruined them?
I can hope.
Having a girl first is easier. Girls are mature enough at young ages to help Momma quite a bit. It's not that boys can't be systematically trained, just that girls need far less training at younger ages. My three-year-old daughter is much more mature than her brothers were at the same age. Really, no comparison. She has a natural drive to mature, while the boys seemed to have a natural drive to let Mom do everything for them, when they could swing it.
Natural birth control facilitated by on-demand breastfeeding lasts between 6 and 18 months. Consequently, some women can have babies 15 months apart, while others experience a rhythm of 18 to 27 months apart.
I find myself in an incredibly busy season, so I think of these spacing issues frequently. Most days I scratch my head and think, "How does anyone do this well? I am over my head!" Basic hygiene and nutrition needs take up most of my day.
And then there's the laundry.
Never mind the dust bunnies and the various surfaces in need of a good wiping.
I keep coming back to this thought: There simply must be a way to do this well! After all, our Lord created our womanly bodies. He knows the childrearing rhythm he had in mind. Having children every two years or so, or more often, can make for a very frazzled Momma.
So, what exactly was he thinking?
All I know is this. And I think of it often--guilty, overwhelmed mom that I am.
By the time a child is ten years old, she doesn't remember the details of her life before the age of four or five.
Tell me God, is that Grace in action for us overwhelmed Mommas? They actually lose the memory of Momma having an eye-rolling frenzy over spilt milk....over fingers in the diaper poo.....over a wet diaper right after a potty visit.....over food flung to the floor by a tired baby? They have no recollection of my worst moments?
Good. Then I can start from scratch tomorrow, making self-control a part of my persona? I haven't ruined them?
I can hope.
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