My parents are always asking me if I am writing down the funny things my kids do. I'd like to say I am, but I'm not. So, as of today, each Sunday I'm going to try and jot down a few of the highlights from the week. It's not much, but it's something:
Sydney lost her first tooth while chewing on a rubber worm at Grandma Edie's annual Halloween party. Of course the tooth fairy did not come and owes her a "note" as well as some cash.
Paige painted herself with sour cream, tried to clean the toilet with a roll of toilet paper, and puts everything she can down her undershirt where it lodges, uncomfortably, in the top of her diaper. Tonight we found a yellow crayon, a small "people" and many pieces of chicken and rice. Yum
Avery dressed as a "rock star" for the Halloween party and ended up looking like she was ready to hit the town. She looked fabulous -- too fabulous.
Addison finished reading Freckle Juice, her first longer book. She decided she wants to be a doctor and a Mom when she grows up.
Jack will only wear his tractor pajamas to bed and has been unrolling all my rolls of wrapping paper in order to get to the cardboard "sword".
Cooper discovered his tongue and sticks it out of his mouth constantly. He is currently slightly above the top of the growth charts.
I have to write a paper this week for my class. Any ideas?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Birth of a Mother
One week ago today, I watched a new mother be born. As she labored, without medication, for 24 HOURS, then with an epidural for another 8, and then pushed for 2 hors, I watched as she fought desperately to overcome last minute self-doubt and fear of the unknown. Her body, mind and spirit were straining to come together in order to allow the birth process to happen. I could almost physically see the struggle pass through her like waves, mimicking the contractions themselves.
First, there was staunch determination to go through the birth process unmedicated in order to fully "experience" birth and the wonders that come with it. Coupled with that fierce determination was absolute terror which would wash across her face and practically paralyze her with each contraction. She was already learning the lessons all mothers feel when they have to sit at the bedside of their sick child, determined to stay awake all night if necessary, experiencing fear at the prospect of their child's future.
Next, I watched with relief as she realized her own limitations and that of her body's and accepted an epidural. She had to go through the mental turmoil of questioning herself and her decision, and wondering if she could still be considered "tough" or "strong enough." What mother doesn't question that constantly? "If I had just..." "Would it have made a difference if...?" She was required to let go of whatever control she thought she had over the situation and allow the process to happen. This is a lesson experienced over and over in motherhood.
Last came the true work- that of releasing her baby into the world. Although completely exhausted, she had to dig deep within herself and find the strength to do for her son what he could not do for himself. She had to push past the limits of her own mind and body and find a new, deeper place--that of mother -- and she did. It was a beautifully painful thing to witness. Allowing our babies to go out into the world is a task which, thankfully, takes about 20 years to complete, but starts with that first great effort.
She is already a fantastic mother. Just as her birth story was unique, so her mothering will be also. She will bring new understanding and depth which will add strength and beauty to the millions of other women who call themselves mother. I was proud and honored to be witness to a birth of a new mother.
I love you sis!
First, there was staunch determination to go through the birth process unmedicated in order to fully "experience" birth and the wonders that come with it. Coupled with that fierce determination was absolute terror which would wash across her face and practically paralyze her with each contraction. She was already learning the lessons all mothers feel when they have to sit at the bedside of their sick child, determined to stay awake all night if necessary, experiencing fear at the prospect of their child's future.
Next, I watched with relief as she realized her own limitations and that of her body's and accepted an epidural. She had to go through the mental turmoil of questioning herself and her decision, and wondering if she could still be considered "tough" or "strong enough." What mother doesn't question that constantly? "If I had just..." "Would it have made a difference if...?" She was required to let go of whatever control she thought she had over the situation and allow the process to happen. This is a lesson experienced over and over in motherhood.
Last came the true work- that of releasing her baby into the world. Although completely exhausted, she had to dig deep within herself and find the strength to do for her son what he could not do for himself. She had to push past the limits of her own mind and body and find a new, deeper place--that of mother -- and she did. It was a beautifully painful thing to witness. Allowing our babies to go out into the world is a task which, thankfully, takes about 20 years to complete, but starts with that first great effort.
She is already a fantastic mother. Just as her birth story was unique, so her mothering will be also. She will bring new understanding and depth which will add strength and beauty to the millions of other women who call themselves mother. I was proud and honored to be witness to a birth of a new mother.
I love you sis!
Friday, October 17, 2008
Lessons From a Mini-Van
Freedom is a difficult concept. We all say we want it, but do we really? I think we all want freedom as long as everybody plays by the rules, but as soon as someone breaks a rule, we're ready to yank our freedoms away. I had an experience with my kids the other which brought this into perspective for me.
All God had to do to teach me little lessons in patience each day was to make me have to pile six children into a mini-van. Due to the space constrictions, it's not too long before somebody has "touched" somebody else, or looked out "their" window, or "breathed" on someone, etc... Sometimes, as was the case the other day,a full on hair-pulling, pinching, pushing fight breaks out and intervention is required.
I was about 1/3 of a mile away from home when one of these occurred so I did the stereotypical thing and pulled that little van right over, got out, came around to the side, yanked the door open and pulled the two offenders out. Then I did the un-stereotypical thing and walked back around the driver's side, got in and started to pull away, just so I could see the looks on their faces. It was totally worth it and allowed me to cool down enough to think about what I was really going to do. I wanted to send a clear message because I was tired of the whole "don't make me pull this car over" routine. I then stopped the van, rolled down the window and told them to start walking. They were going to walk the rest of the way home. They looked at me like I couldn't possibly be serious. I "seriously" rolled the window back up and drove up ahead about 100 yards and waited. It took about a minute for them to realize I wasn't coming back, so they started walking. Every time they got close to the van, I would pull ahead another 50 yards until we reached our street. Since then I have had fewer disruptions because they know they may end up walking again.
My thoughts during this whole thing, however, were centered on who was observing this and wondering why these children were walking by themselves, during the middle of the day, along a busy road, and deciding they should call the police. I was just waiting for CPS to show up when I realized how much we have limited our freedom to parent how we see fit. I wasn't doing anything abusive or dangerous. I was trying to teach my children a lesson by using natural consequences and in a way that, I hoped, would be really effective instead of just more threats. We've become so judgmental and intrusive into everybody's lives that we've forgotten there are many ways to live and parent.
Freedom means allowing some bad things to go on. With freedom comes the possibility of wrong choices and hurtful actions. Obviously I would never want to see a child intentionally hurt or neglected in any way and I would kick the crap out of anybody I saw participating in such an activity, but I'm not ready to live in a "Big Brother" society for the sake of preventing any deviance from the prescribed path. However, I think we've become lulled into this false sense of "freedom" by listening to all the "experts" telling us what to do, think, wear, drive, eat, etc... We need to wake up and reclaim our true freedom before it is too late. If that sounds a little revolutionary, maybe it is.
All God had to do to teach me little lessons in patience each day was to make me have to pile six children into a mini-van. Due to the space constrictions, it's not too long before somebody has "touched" somebody else, or looked out "their" window, or "breathed" on someone, etc... Sometimes, as was the case the other day,a full on hair-pulling, pinching, pushing fight breaks out and intervention is required.
I was about 1/3 of a mile away from home when one of these occurred so I did the stereotypical thing and pulled that little van right over, got out, came around to the side, yanked the door open and pulled the two offenders out. Then I did the un-stereotypical thing and walked back around the driver's side, got in and started to pull away, just so I could see the looks on their faces. It was totally worth it and allowed me to cool down enough to think about what I was really going to do. I wanted to send a clear message because I was tired of the whole "don't make me pull this car over" routine. I then stopped the van, rolled down the window and told them to start walking. They were going to walk the rest of the way home. They looked at me like I couldn't possibly be serious. I "seriously" rolled the window back up and drove up ahead about 100 yards and waited. It took about a minute for them to realize I wasn't coming back, so they started walking. Every time they got close to the van, I would pull ahead another 50 yards until we reached our street. Since then I have had fewer disruptions because they know they may end up walking again.
My thoughts during this whole thing, however, were centered on who was observing this and wondering why these children were walking by themselves, during the middle of the day, along a busy road, and deciding they should call the police. I was just waiting for CPS to show up when I realized how much we have limited our freedom to parent how we see fit. I wasn't doing anything abusive or dangerous. I was trying to teach my children a lesson by using natural consequences and in a way that, I hoped, would be really effective instead of just more threats. We've become so judgmental and intrusive into everybody's lives that we've forgotten there are many ways to live and parent.
Freedom means allowing some bad things to go on. With freedom comes the possibility of wrong choices and hurtful actions. Obviously I would never want to see a child intentionally hurt or neglected in any way and I would kick the crap out of anybody I saw participating in such an activity, but I'm not ready to live in a "Big Brother" society for the sake of preventing any deviance from the prescribed path. However, I think we've become lulled into this false sense of "freedom" by listening to all the "experts" telling us what to do, think, wear, drive, eat, etc... We need to wake up and reclaim our true freedom before it is too late. If that sounds a little revolutionary, maybe it is.
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