I have a child who has hit puberty with a vengeance. Gone are the sweet, cuddly moments. Gone are the snuggles at bedtime. Gone are the earnest chats about life, problems, etc. In their place, I have a snarling, disrespectful creature that barely resembles the child I birthed.
I'm a talker - from the word "Go". My response to problems is: 1. Talk them out; 2. If that fails, punch out the perpetrator (I still have Irish blood in me). Neither of these solutions work with this child. However, since #2 is definitely out of the question, I have given added attention to my #1 way of dealing with problems.
In an effort recently to help this child understand the emotions he/she is having towards me right now, I explained that puberty causes all children to think their parents are idiots. They will one day wake up, often in their 20's (we all pray it happens much earlier, though), and realize that their parents suddenly got really, really smart. They understand things. When could this possibly have happened? I wanted this child to understand that thinking his/her father and I are stupid is a normal part of puberty, but it's also not the truth and that feeling will go away one day.
This morning, this child smiled at me (boy, is that ever rare) and told me he/she has decided I'm not the dumbest person in the world. Surprised, but cautious, I asked,
"Oh? So is your father the dumbest person in the world?"
"No!" this child said, emphatically. "Daddy's brilliant. And I figure, with him being so smart and all, he wouldn't have chosen a dumb person to marry. So, you MUST be reasonably smart."
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Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Monday, February 06, 2012
The Extraordinary Ordinary
To all those stay-at-home Moms who wonder what you're really contributing to the world:
"We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.
Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.
So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one."
Excerpt from "The Inner History of a Day"
by John O'Donohue
"We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.
Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.
So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one."
Excerpt from "The Inner History of a Day"
by John O'Donohue
Friday, February 03, 2012
A Small Reminder
During breakfast yesterday, I glanced through the kitchen windows to the bird feeder on the deck. I LOVE watching the variety of birds that come to visit our feeder. For several years now, it's been a favorite hobby for our family.
I could see one of the male cardinals who live in a tree behind our house waiting in a pecan tree for his turn. But what really attracted my attention was the bird on the feeder. He was brown with reddish markings, but not rust-colored.
"Is that a robin? Look at that bird, kids. What is that? Is it a finch?"
When the kids saw me looking outside, they all turned, as well. At the same moment I said, "Is it a finch?", Daelyn blurted out,
"A PURPLE FINCH! Look, Mom, it's a purple finch!"
As soon as he said it, I realized he was right. My father-in-law has house finches that feed on his feeders quite often, but we don't often get to see purple finches. He was beautiful, although I'm not sure I would have called his color purple, exactly.
What struck me the most about this incident was not the beauty of the finch, although I loved that, but the fact that my 9-yr. old son knew what kind of bird it was. AND - was excited to see a purple finch at our feeder.
There are moments in life when you think you've done something right. They're never often enough, but those little glimmers into the thought that I've made my children's world better carry me through many hard times.
I could see one of the male cardinals who live in a tree behind our house waiting in a pecan tree for his turn. But what really attracted my attention was the bird on the feeder. He was brown with reddish markings, but not rust-colored.
"Is that a robin? Look at that bird, kids. What is that? Is it a finch?"
When the kids saw me looking outside, they all turned, as well. At the same moment I said, "Is it a finch?", Daelyn blurted out,
"A PURPLE FINCH! Look, Mom, it's a purple finch!"
As soon as he said it, I realized he was right. My father-in-law has house finches that feed on his feeders quite often, but we don't often get to see purple finches. He was beautiful, although I'm not sure I would have called his color purple, exactly.
What struck me the most about this incident was not the beauty of the finch, although I loved that, but the fact that my 9-yr. old son knew what kind of bird it was. AND - was excited to see a purple finch at our feeder.
There are moments in life when you think you've done something right. They're never often enough, but those little glimmers into the thought that I've made my children's world better carry me through many hard times.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
More Technical Knowledge than Me
When Dane has his infrequent check-ups, our doctor always has to dig
stuff out of his ear so he can see the eardrum. He affectionately
refers to them as "potatoes".
While driving home from Atlanta on Saturday, I noticed Deanna had her index finger in her ear and was jiggling it up and down.
"Mama," she asked, "do you get pickles in your ears?"
I chortled then, before bursting into laughter full-tilt, I responded,
"Not very often!"
Turns out, she really asked if I got pimples in my ears, not pickles. But, I assure you, it sounded exactly like pickles. And then it occurred to me.
"You know, honey, we can stop planting gardens. You can just grow pickles and Dane potatoes out of your ears and we can save a lot of money on fertilizer and bedding plants."
Deanna didn't appreciate my humor at all.
Then, on Monday, after school, Daelyn was recanting a story from his day. His teacher's husband (who's also a teacher) had gotten a new Iphone4S (I think that's what they called it) and was asking it questions. First, he asked,
"Where should I put a dead body?"
The iphone answered, "Some suggestions would be a funeral home, a dumpster, or your house."
I cracked up. A phone with a sense of humor. Then Dane asked,
"What's a pilate?"
Daelyn, our little techie, launched into a definition of pilates. Deanna and I looked at each other and she interrupted Daelyn.
"Dane," she explained in her older sister voice, "Daelyn said 'Where should I put a DEAD BODY.' The word pilate was never said!"
Dane and Daelyn responded together.
"Oh."
Apparently, Daelyn hadn't picked up on the fact that Dane had potatoes in his ears and couldn't hear well. He really thought Dane wanted to know what pilates were.
After a short break for laughing, Daelyn continued with the story. The teacher asked the phone if it would marry him. It responded,
"I don't think we know each other well enough."
When the teacher pressed the issue and added the word "please" to his request, the phone responded that his contract didn't include marriage.
I was flabbergasted. How in the world have they been able to program a mini-computer in a phone to have a sense of humor? It couldn't be accidental. Every answer was humorous.
I finally voiced my question aloud.
"How could they possibly have programmed humor into a cell phone?"
Daelyn responded with two words: "Steve Jobs".
See. Our little techie.
While driving home from Atlanta on Saturday, I noticed Deanna had her index finger in her ear and was jiggling it up and down.
"Mama," she asked, "do you get pickles in your ears?"
I chortled then, before bursting into laughter full-tilt, I responded,
"Not very often!"
Turns out, she really asked if I got pimples in my ears, not pickles. But, I assure you, it sounded exactly like pickles. And then it occurred to me.
"You know, honey, we can stop planting gardens. You can just grow pickles and Dane potatoes out of your ears and we can save a lot of money on fertilizer and bedding plants."
Deanna didn't appreciate my humor at all.
Then, on Monday, after school, Daelyn was recanting a story from his day. His teacher's husband (who's also a teacher) had gotten a new Iphone4S (I think that's what they called it) and was asking it questions. First, he asked,
"Where should I put a dead body?"
The iphone answered, "Some suggestions would be a funeral home, a dumpster, or your house."
I cracked up. A phone with a sense of humor. Then Dane asked,
"What's a pilate?"
Daelyn, our little techie, launched into a definition of pilates. Deanna and I looked at each other and she interrupted Daelyn.
"Dane," she explained in her older sister voice, "Daelyn said 'Where should I put a DEAD BODY.' The word pilate was never said!"
Dane and Daelyn responded together.
"Oh."
Apparently, Daelyn hadn't picked up on the fact that Dane had potatoes in his ears and couldn't hear well. He really thought Dane wanted to know what pilates were.
After a short break for laughing, Daelyn continued with the story. The teacher asked the phone if it would marry him. It responded,
"I don't think we know each other well enough."
When the teacher pressed the issue and added the word "please" to his request, the phone responded that his contract didn't include marriage.
I was flabbergasted. How in the world have they been able to program a mini-computer in a phone to have a sense of humor? It couldn't be accidental. Every answer was humorous.
I finally voiced my question aloud.
"How could they possibly have programmed humor into a cell phone?"
Daelyn responded with two words: "Steve Jobs".
See. Our little techie.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
A Comedy of Errors that Wasn't Very Funny
Deanna got out of school early on Friday and I was napping and forgot about her. In my own defense, I've been battling bronchitis for 2 weeks and am exhausted - - can't sleep at night for all the coughing, so I laid down for a little nap. I never expected to conk out and sleep for several hours. Don was home from work. He finally went to pick her up, but she had already caught a ride home with the LAST person still there. She was devastated that we had forgotten her. To make matters worse, she had called the house and no one answered the phone.
I had similar experiences in my childhood that I vividly remember and still hurt about. I was determined not to make excuses or slough off forgetting to pick her up. She had an out-of-town basketball game scheduled for Saturday morning, so I decided I'd drive the 3 hours to Atlanta, watch her game, then bring her home afterwards so she didn't have to sit in the stands for 3 more hours watching the other teams play and waste her whole Saturday. They had to leave on the bus at 7 a.m. and were not expected home until 8 p.m.
So, I took Dane. We left at 8 a.m., figuring that would get us there a few minutes before the start of Deanna's game at 11:00. I Googled the school and got MapQuest directions, which were WRONG!!! But we also had the address, so we found the school with only a couple detours from wrong directions. The school was on I-85 south of Atlanta in Fairburn.
We made amazingly good time. Traffic was very reasonable, and I set the cruise control and zoomed. When we finally arrived, a few minutes after 11:00 because of the bad directions, the game hadn't started. They told us they didn't have an 11:00 game, that the game didn't start until noon. I walked into the gym, looked at the boys warming up, and knew something was wrong. Turns out, we were at the wrong school. The Creekside High School WE wanted was off of I-75 in McDonough, GA. A teacher at the wrong school printed out directions from her laptop for us to the correct school but, by the time we arrived, 45 minutes later, the game was over and Deanna was sitting in the stands, not knowing where we were or what had happened to us.
One of those situations where you can't seem to do anything right. She was very upset. So was I. But, as a mother, you have to hold your own frustration in check so as to console your child. After all, we had driven a total of almost 4 hours, still had a 3-hr. drive home, and all for a game that we totally missed. AND, I was still sick and fighting to stay awake. Not exactly how I wanted to spend a Saturday.
We went to Red Lobster and had lunch and Deanna's spirits finally lifted. The drive home was pleasant and I'm very glad we went, even with all the slip-ups. She still arrived home hours before her teammates, which was the goal in the first place.
In light of Friday and Saturday, I have decided to attend Deanna's basketball game outside of Atlanta this afternoon. I'm taking Daelyn out of school early (since he missed the game Saturday because he needed to work on his car for the Scout Pinewood Derby), picking up another mom, and heading to another game. I'm determined to get this right.
At least I've been to this school before. So has the other mother. And we ought to be able to get accurate directions, since the ones I used when going to this school last time got me there.
I keep hoping for redemption . . .
I had similar experiences in my childhood that I vividly remember and still hurt about. I was determined not to make excuses or slough off forgetting to pick her up. She had an out-of-town basketball game scheduled for Saturday morning, so I decided I'd drive the 3 hours to Atlanta, watch her game, then bring her home afterwards so she didn't have to sit in the stands for 3 more hours watching the other teams play and waste her whole Saturday. They had to leave on the bus at 7 a.m. and were not expected home until 8 p.m.
So, I took Dane. We left at 8 a.m., figuring that would get us there a few minutes before the start of Deanna's game at 11:00. I Googled the school and got MapQuest directions, which were WRONG!!! But we also had the address, so we found the school with only a couple detours from wrong directions. The school was on I-85 south of Atlanta in Fairburn.
We made amazingly good time. Traffic was very reasonable, and I set the cruise control and zoomed. When we finally arrived, a few minutes after 11:00 because of the bad directions, the game hadn't started. They told us they didn't have an 11:00 game, that the game didn't start until noon. I walked into the gym, looked at the boys warming up, and knew something was wrong. Turns out, we were at the wrong school. The Creekside High School WE wanted was off of I-75 in McDonough, GA. A teacher at the wrong school printed out directions from her laptop for us to the correct school but, by the time we arrived, 45 minutes later, the game was over and Deanna was sitting in the stands, not knowing where we were or what had happened to us.
One of those situations where you can't seem to do anything right. She was very upset. So was I. But, as a mother, you have to hold your own frustration in check so as to console your child. After all, we had driven a total of almost 4 hours, still had a 3-hr. drive home, and all for a game that we totally missed. AND, I was still sick and fighting to stay awake. Not exactly how I wanted to spend a Saturday.
We went to Red Lobster and had lunch and Deanna's spirits finally lifted. The drive home was pleasant and I'm very glad we went, even with all the slip-ups. She still arrived home hours before her teammates, which was the goal in the first place.
In light of Friday and Saturday, I have decided to attend Deanna's basketball game outside of Atlanta this afternoon. I'm taking Daelyn out of school early (since he missed the game Saturday because he needed to work on his car for the Scout Pinewood Derby), picking up another mom, and heading to another game. I'm determined to get this right.
At least I've been to this school before. So has the other mother. And we ought to be able to get accurate directions, since the ones I used when going to this school last time got me there.
I keep hoping for redemption . . .
Friday, January 27, 2012
Javelins and teeth
Last Friday night, we went out to dinner at the local Mexican place. While we were waiting to place our orders, Don wrote out an algebra word problem on a napkin and gave it to Deanna to solve. She really struggled, even after he explained what the two variables would be. Ultimately, she couldn't solve his double-variable algebraic word problem about a caterpillar and a grasshopper moving opposite directions around a circle.
Tonight, at the dinner table, we were talking about rocket scientists.
"I could be a rocket scientist," Deanna said.
"Uh, no, I don't think so," her daddy said. When we all looked at him quizzically, he added, "A caterpillar and a grasshopper moving opposite directions around a circle . . . "
Deanna's mouth dropped open and she looked at me.
"Is Daddy saying I'm too dumb to be a rocket scientist?"
"It sure seems that way, honey," I responded.
Don: "But don't worry, Sissy. If all else fails, you can be a seamstress!"
Me: "Oh, lovely. That's the most to which you aspire for your daughter - a seamstress?!?"
Deanna: "I couldn't be a seamstress. I get too stressed out!! Oh, my gosh, I can't even be a seamstress!"
Don: "Well, if they ever add swimming to the Miss America Pageant, you could be a beauty queen."
Me: "Maybe what they need to do is add different sports to each year's pageant."
Don: "Yes, like the Olympics."
Me: "One year, they could do javelin throwing . . . in high heels."
Daelyn: " 'Sorry - I didn't mean to put out your eye'."
Deanna: "Or boxing."
Me: "And the girl with the most teeth left is proclaimed the winner!!"
Sad. Just sad. This is what we do at Family Dinners.
Tonight, at the dinner table, we were talking about rocket scientists.
"I could be a rocket scientist," Deanna said.
"Uh, no, I don't think so," her daddy said. When we all looked at him quizzically, he added, "A caterpillar and a grasshopper moving opposite directions around a circle . . . "
Deanna's mouth dropped open and she looked at me.
"Is Daddy saying I'm too dumb to be a rocket scientist?"
"It sure seems that way, honey," I responded.
Don: "But don't worry, Sissy. If all else fails, you can be a seamstress!"
Me: "Oh, lovely. That's the most to which you aspire for your daughter - a seamstress?!?"
Deanna: "I couldn't be a seamstress. I get too stressed out!! Oh, my gosh, I can't even be a seamstress!"
Don: "Well, if they ever add swimming to the Miss America Pageant, you could be a beauty queen."
Me: "Maybe what they need to do is add different sports to each year's pageant."
Don: "Yes, like the Olympics."
Me: "One year, they could do javelin throwing . . . in high heels."
Daelyn: " 'Sorry - I didn't mean to put out your eye'."
Deanna: "Or boxing."
Me: "And the girl with the most teeth left is proclaimed the winner!!"
Sad. Just sad. This is what we do at Family Dinners.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
New take on an old theme
Somehow or other, we ended up watching the Miss America 2012 Pageant. I tried to talk the kids into watching an episode of a weekly show on the computer, but they seemed fascinated by the Pageant.
Slowly, but surely, the boys disappeared off to bed. I finally asked Deanna,
"Can't we change the channels NOW, hon?"
"Well," she said, "I need to go brush my teeth, but I'd really like to see the end of the bathing suit competition."
"That WAS the end," I responded.
"What? They don't SWIM? They just parade around in bathing suits looking hot? Where's the athleticism?"
Great new idea for the Miss America Pageant. After marching onstage in skimpy bathing suits and heels, they ought to take to the Pool and try to look sexy while swimming laps!!
Now THAT I might enjoy watching.
Slowly, but surely, the boys disappeared off to bed. I finally asked Deanna,
"Can't we change the channels NOW, hon?"
"Well," she said, "I need to go brush my teeth, but I'd really like to see the end of the bathing suit competition."
"That WAS the end," I responded.
"What? They don't SWIM? They just parade around in bathing suits looking hot? Where's the athleticism?"
Great new idea for the Miss America Pageant. After marching onstage in skimpy bathing suits and heels, they ought to take to the Pool and try to look sexy while swimming laps!!
Now THAT I might enjoy watching.
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