I had to discipline Don in church today. Deanna's not with us this week, Daelyn goes into the nursery until time for Communion, and Dane goes to Children's Church. They bring the children back in the sanctuary during the Passing of the Peace. When Dane came back in, we got lots of loving from him. He showed us his drawing that he had done and then sat back to munch on the goodies they gave him. I was focused on the service when, during a very quiet moment, Dane starts laughing loudly. I turned and gave him that "any more noise and you're in trouble" glare that only Mommy's come equipped with. As soon as I turned back towards the altar, he began laughing again. Unable to believe it, I turned quickly, just in time to see Don pull his tickling hand away from Dane's armpit. How to react to an undisciplined Daddy? It obviously was not Dane's fault, so he didn't deserve my withering look. And Don wouldn't glance at me, so the withering look was wasted on him. I stood there for a moment, watching, as Don slyly slid his hand back over under Dane's arm. He's sneaky, that husband of mine. He keeps his body facing forward and doesn't look at Dane while he's initiating all this commotion. No one would ever be able to tell that Don was the instigator.
Just as Don expected, Dane began giggling again. In frustration, I leaned towards Don, intending to speak quietly, but my words carried further than I had expected. "If you don't settle down, I'm going to have to spank you!" I told Daddy. As I turned back towards the altar, I noticed several people had turned around and were staring at me. They thought I was threatening DANE!! Mommy was BAD, Dane was a harassed sweet little boy, and Daddy just stood smiling, getting off scott-free. Why do I always get blamed for being the bad parent?
On the way home from church, we stopped for gas at a station outside of town that had it for $1.98/gal. Daddy told they boys that he had to fill up the van for Mommy's trip to West Virginia this afternoon. Deanna called last night from Grandma and Grandpa's, crying. She had gotten there safely, gone out to Pizza Hut for dinner and grocery shopping with Grandpa, but was feeling sick and wanted Mama. Hearing my voice apparently made the matter even worse, and she was crying pretty hard, telling me she needed for me to hold her. I decided I was packing up right then and making the 8 - 10 hour drive. I covered the receiver on the phone and told Don I needed to leave for West Virginia. He said, "No, you're not. You're not going anywhere tonight." I handed him the phone. Perhaps his baby crying on the other end would soften his resolve.
He left the room and talked with her for quite some time. When I finally found him, he seemed to have her calmed down and was suggesting that she have me sing to her over the phone. After signing to her, we talked a little more. While Don had been talking with her, I had gathered my wits about me and thought a little. I realized that, even if I left right then, which was impossible, it would be today before I arrived and, by then, she'd probably be feeling better. I told her that and she agreed, but I promised her that if she got up today and was still feeling poorly, I'd drive up today. So, Don was making sure I had a full tank of gas for the impending trip. Turns out, Deanna is feeling much better and her mood has improved, as well, so it doesn't look like I'm going to have to spend today in the van.
On the way home from church, Don drove by the swamp for the boys. They love to look at the birds around the water. But with all the rain we've had, the weeds on the side of the highway had grown up so tall we couldn't see over them to get a view of the swamp. We all complained together about the heighth of the weeds and how something had to be done about it.
When we got home, while I was calling Grandma's to check on Deanna, the boys changed clothes. Daelyn came into the kitchen and informed me that he had lots of work to do outside. He needed to "lawn the mow" because all the rain had made the grass so tall. It's a shame he doesn't put as much attention and energy into cleaning up behind himself as he does the lawn work. It's even a bigger shame his lawn mower is plastic. But at least he has a heart to keep the yard orderly, just like his mother's heart to keep order in her children and home.
If only Daddy could grasp the same vision.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Saturday, July 30, 2005
The Gift of Peace
We just returned home from North Carolina where we met Don's parents and handed Deanna over to them for a week. They'll bring her home next weekend and stay with our kids for us while Don and I go on our 10th Anniversary trip. We've never left all the children overnight before, and this will be for two nights, but I'm ready and can't think of a more peaceful situation than for Grandma and Grandpa Doughty to keep the kids for us.
Driving down the road, I kept picturing her in my mind, brushing the hair away from her face with my hands, then wrapping them around her neck and smiling into those beautiful little eyes. Anytime she's away from me and driving with someone else, I have to fight a fear that she'll be in an accident and injured. I don't seem to worry when she's with me and Don, only other people. I guess I'm afraid no one else understands just how precious she is. I have to constantly refocus my mind and push the thoughts and fears away.
The house already seems empty. When Deanna was born, everyone told me that I would always have peace in my home with a daughter for an eldest child. I didn't quite understand, until the boys were born. Deanna keeps them occupied and entertained. If the house is quiet, I always know to look for them in her room. She'll have them making puppets and planning a show or building a fort with chairs and blankets, or just drawing. But if it's quiet, Deanna's involved.
The boys will miss her this week almost as much as me. Without her presence, I'm sure noise and confusion will be the prevailing atmosphere in the house. But we're willing to make the sacrifice so that she can have special time with Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe this week, they'll have an opportunity to experience the joy in life that comes from Deanna.
I miss you, my baby. Have fun this week, but hurry home to Mommy.
Driving down the road, I kept picturing her in my mind, brushing the hair away from her face with my hands, then wrapping them around her neck and smiling into those beautiful little eyes. Anytime she's away from me and driving with someone else, I have to fight a fear that she'll be in an accident and injured. I don't seem to worry when she's with me and Don, only other people. I guess I'm afraid no one else understands just how precious she is. I have to constantly refocus my mind and push the thoughts and fears away.
The house already seems empty. When Deanna was born, everyone told me that I would always have peace in my home with a daughter for an eldest child. I didn't quite understand, until the boys were born. Deanna keeps them occupied and entertained. If the house is quiet, I always know to look for them in her room. She'll have them making puppets and planning a show or building a fort with chairs and blankets, or just drawing. But if it's quiet, Deanna's involved.
The boys will miss her this week almost as much as me. Without her presence, I'm sure noise and confusion will be the prevailing atmosphere in the house. But we're willing to make the sacrifice so that she can have special time with Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe this week, they'll have an opportunity to experience the joy in life that comes from Deanna.
I miss you, my baby. Have fun this week, but hurry home to Mommy.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Plan C
My children's favorite poem - like their mother and their Grandpa Hunt, they love a good story!
Dad and the Cat and the Tree
This morning a cat got
Stuck in our tree.
Dad said, "Right, just
Leave it to me."
The tree was wobbly,
The tree was tall.
Mum said, "For goodness'
Sake don't fall."
"Fall?" scoffed Dad,
"A climber like me?
Child's play, this is!
You wait and see."
He got out the ladder
From the garden shed.
It slipped. He landed
In the flower bed.
"Never mind," said Dad,
Brushing the dirt
Off his hair and his face
And his trousers and his shirt,
"We'll try Plan B. Stand
Out of the way!"
Mum said, "Don't fall
Again, O K?"
"Fall again?" said Dad.
"Funny joke!"
Then he swung himself up
On a branch. It broke.
Dad landed wallop
Back on the deck.
Mum said, "Stop it,
You'll break your neck!"
"Rubbish!" said Dad.
"Now we'll try Plan C.
Easy as winking
To a climber like me!"
Then he climbed up high
On the garden wall,
Guess what?
He didn't fall!
He gave a great leap
And he landed flat
In the crook of the tree-trunk -
Right on the cat!
The cat gave a yell
And sprang to the ground,
Pleased as Punch to be
Safe and sound.
So it's smiling and smirking,
Smug as can be,
But poor old Dad's
Still
Stuck
Up
The
Tree!
by Kit Wright
Dad and the Cat and the Tree
This morning a cat got
Stuck in our tree.
Dad said, "Right, just
Leave it to me."
The tree was wobbly,
The tree was tall.
Mum said, "For goodness'
Sake don't fall."
"Fall?" scoffed Dad,
"A climber like me?
Child's play, this is!
You wait and see."
He got out the ladder
From the garden shed.
It slipped. He landed
In the flower bed.
"Never mind," said Dad,
Brushing the dirt
Off his hair and his face
And his trousers and his shirt,
"We'll try Plan B. Stand
Out of the way!"
Mum said, "Don't fall
Again, O K?"
"Fall again?" said Dad.
"Funny joke!"
Then he swung himself up
On a branch. It broke.
Dad landed wallop
Back on the deck.
Mum said, "Stop it,
You'll break your neck!"
"Rubbish!" said Dad.
"Now we'll try Plan C.
Easy as winking
To a climber like me!"
Then he climbed up high
On the garden wall,
Guess what?
He didn't fall!
He gave a great leap
And he landed flat
In the crook of the tree-trunk -
Right on the cat!
The cat gave a yell
And sprang to the ground,
Pleased as Punch to be
Safe and sound.
So it's smiling and smirking,
Smug as can be,
But poor old Dad's
Still
Stuck
Up
The
Tree!
by Kit Wright
Thursday, July 28, 2005
"Kids, run outside and flag down Dad"
When Don and I became engaged, we decided to live in my house, since I only had about 7 years left on my mortgage. It was a hard sell for Don. I live on a fairly busy road, there are no children in my stretch of yards, and we have a neighborhood agreement against fences. It is a neighborhood of brick duplexes that, up until a few years ago when people started remodeling, all looked the same. One night, coming home from a date, Don missed my house 3 times and kept having to go around the block. We were only dating casually at the time, but I had an image in my mind of my children watching out the front windows one evening for Daddy to appear and yelling, "Mama, Daddy just missed the house again." I responded, "Run outside, quick, children, and wave him down the next time he drives by." Little did I know then that we'd have three children. Thankfully, Don learned where our driveway is before they were born and only misses it now ocassionally.
When we were first married, I bought him a metal shed for the backyard. He still managed to clog up the house with all his junk. Finally, in frustration one day, I begged him to put his "stuff" in the shed. "It leaks like a sieve," he said, "I'm not putting anything important in it." Important? Like the huge hunk of rough wood framed like a picture that contains about 1,000 old key? Or maybe the foam rubber heart? Something had to be done.
So, when we remodeled our house 2 years ago, as a birthday present for Don, I bought him a large, beautiful new wood shed and had our contractor pour a cement pad for it and roof it with shingles to match the house. It's beautiful and very useful. But what to do about the old, rusted eyesore? For over a year now, I've been trying to get rid of it. Someone offered to take it off our hands during a yardsale, but my father thought my sister could use it, so we hung on to it for her. Finally, over a year later, a neighbor of mine who mentioned he was looking for a shed looked it over one day and, the next, it was gone. He swooped in like a giant eagle, unseen by any of us, and when we looked out the back windows, we had a huge, empty space in the backyard. My much-hoped-for clean yard. It took over a year, but I got what I wanted.
This morning, I looked out the back window, greeting the day. There, in place of my eyesore shed is an eyesore MOUNTAIN of mulch, apparently dropped off yesterday by the guys cutting and chipping limbs approaching power lines. My neat, beautiful yard is still nothing more than a dream, but a worthy dream, at least.
When we were first married, I bought him a metal shed for the backyard. He still managed to clog up the house with all his junk. Finally, in frustration one day, I begged him to put his "stuff" in the shed. "It leaks like a sieve," he said, "I'm not putting anything important in it." Important? Like the huge hunk of rough wood framed like a picture that contains about 1,000 old key? Or maybe the foam rubber heart? Something had to be done.
So, when we remodeled our house 2 years ago, as a birthday present for Don, I bought him a large, beautiful new wood shed and had our contractor pour a cement pad for it and roof it with shingles to match the house. It's beautiful and very useful. But what to do about the old, rusted eyesore? For over a year now, I've been trying to get rid of it. Someone offered to take it off our hands during a yardsale, but my father thought my sister could use it, so we hung on to it for her. Finally, over a year later, a neighbor of mine who mentioned he was looking for a shed looked it over one day and, the next, it was gone. He swooped in like a giant eagle, unseen by any of us, and when we looked out the back windows, we had a huge, empty space in the backyard. My much-hoped-for clean yard. It took over a year, but I got what I wanted.
This morning, I looked out the back window, greeting the day. There, in place of my eyesore shed is an eyesore MOUNTAIN of mulch, apparently dropped off yesterday by the guys cutting and chipping limbs approaching power lines. My neat, beautiful yard is still nothing more than a dream, but a worthy dream, at least.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Diamonds or Coal?
I was awoken this morning by an early phone call from a friend needing prayer. She's had a series of strange and disturbing events occur in her family, including illness and accidents, and has reached the end of her rope. We prayed and talked for a short while and, the next thing I knew, Daelyn was in the bed next to me, snuggling. So much for going back to sleep.
In just 2 short days, I've lost sight of the vision - to bed early, up early to prepare Deanna for her visit to Grandma's next week. I can't help it. It's really not my fault!! Summer just seems to snatch my legs and then move up the rest of my body until I'm moving in slow motion and lazing around is the theme of the day. Blame it on Summer!
The earliest of the public schools start back in just 10 days. Teachers are already gearing up and school supplies are on sale everywhere. I've been trying to force the fog out of my mind so I can take advantage of the tax-free weekend to buy my children's supplies, even if it is a whole month still until they'll be starting school (long live the Private School!)
I hate sending my kids back to school. Although Deanna and Dane both enjoy school and new supplies and clothes are always fun, I miss them terribly and it means an end to fun for 9 whole months. Up early every morning, rushing to get them up and fed, dressed, neatened up, homework finished, and carpools run only to get them out the door, knowing that for the next 7 hours, some other woman will be gazing at their beautiful faces, kissing their boo-boo's, answering their questions, and teaching them. Those things are MY job. At least I have the consolation of knowing both their teachers well and knowing that they teach the same values and morals I would be teaching at home.
Still, even in the best of schools, of which ours is one, they are going to pick up ideas, concepts, WORDS, that I would not teach them. My children have been taught that "dumb" and "stupid" are curse words and are never to be used when referring to a person. The word "booty" refers to a pirate's treasure (the spoils of war) and baby-talk is not allowed. But they hear these words from their friends and booty is never used appropriately. (We're not big into slang around here - after all, their mother is an English major). They have one friend who can't seem to be around other people without talking silly and they pick it up very quickly, especially Dane. Lately Deanna has been using baby-talk. Once started, it's a hard habit to break.
So, we prepare for battle. Once again, I attempt to grasp reality and begin to prepare my children for the advent of school and so many new bad habits. But there's also creativity, sports, fun, and huge amounts of learning that take place between 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. And, without challenges, they would become stale, like white bread that sat out over night. It's the struggles that bring up new issues and apply the pressure needed for growth. This summer, there has been little growth other than physical. I'm sure coal isn't wild about the process of becoming a diamond, but everyone recognizes that becoming a diamond is worth the work, pressure and heat. I want children that are diamonds, not just lumps of coal, even if it means surviving work, pressure and heat.
"Therefore, gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ; as obedient children, not fashioning yourselves according to the former lusts in your ignorance: but as He which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation; because it is written, 'Be ye holy; for I am holy.' " I Peter 1:13-16
"Hope for the grace"? Grace and mercy like raindrops falling from Heaven.
In just 2 short days, I've lost sight of the vision - to bed early, up early to prepare Deanna for her visit to Grandma's next week. I can't help it. It's really not my fault!! Summer just seems to snatch my legs and then move up the rest of my body until I'm moving in slow motion and lazing around is the theme of the day. Blame it on Summer!
The earliest of the public schools start back in just 10 days. Teachers are already gearing up and school supplies are on sale everywhere. I've been trying to force the fog out of my mind so I can take advantage of the tax-free weekend to buy my children's supplies, even if it is a whole month still until they'll be starting school (long live the Private School!)
I hate sending my kids back to school. Although Deanna and Dane both enjoy school and new supplies and clothes are always fun, I miss them terribly and it means an end to fun for 9 whole months. Up early every morning, rushing to get them up and fed, dressed, neatened up, homework finished, and carpools run only to get them out the door, knowing that for the next 7 hours, some other woman will be gazing at their beautiful faces, kissing their boo-boo's, answering their questions, and teaching them. Those things are MY job. At least I have the consolation of knowing both their teachers well and knowing that they teach the same values and morals I would be teaching at home.
Still, even in the best of schools, of which ours is one, they are going to pick up ideas, concepts, WORDS, that I would not teach them. My children have been taught that "dumb" and "stupid" are curse words and are never to be used when referring to a person. The word "booty" refers to a pirate's treasure (the spoils of war) and baby-talk is not allowed. But they hear these words from their friends and booty is never used appropriately. (We're not big into slang around here - after all, their mother is an English major). They have one friend who can't seem to be around other people without talking silly and they pick it up very quickly, especially Dane. Lately Deanna has been using baby-talk. Once started, it's a hard habit to break.
So, we prepare for battle. Once again, I attempt to grasp reality and begin to prepare my children for the advent of school and so many new bad habits. But there's also creativity, sports, fun, and huge amounts of learning that take place between 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. And, without challenges, they would become stale, like white bread that sat out over night. It's the struggles that bring up new issues and apply the pressure needed for growth. This summer, there has been little growth other than physical. I'm sure coal isn't wild about the process of becoming a diamond, but everyone recognizes that becoming a diamond is worth the work, pressure and heat. I want children that are diamonds, not just lumps of coal, even if it means surviving work, pressure and heat.
"Therefore, gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ; as obedient children, not fashioning yourselves according to the former lusts in your ignorance: but as He which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation; because it is written, 'Be ye holy; for I am holy.' " I Peter 1:13-16
"Hope for the grace"? Grace and mercy like raindrops falling from Heaven.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Lobes Have It
Daelyn, the baby, has this thing about ears. In my effort to try and break him from always having his hand down the front of my shirt (Nursing mothers everywhere, unite!), I encouraged him to find something else to rub when tired or while nursing after running into a Catholic Priest friend at the grocery store.
The kids spotted Fr. John further down the way in the meat department and started yelling to him. To keep from attracting every man in the store named John, I sent the two older ones running to greet him while I picked the baby up out of our buggy. Distracted by what meat was on sale, as I approached him, I was oblivious to the fact that Daelyn thought it was naptime and had begun his pre-nap ritual of "nursy-rubbing". Fr. John took one glance and then bent down to Daelyn's eye level. "You have a fixation on breasts, little guy, and you better get over it, because not all women are going to be as accomodating as you mama" he announced, then added, "at least we hope not!"
Soon after, Daelyn discovered earlobes. He rubs, yanks, twists, sucks on ... Yesterday, we were at the drugstore picking up ear drops for Dane who was just diagnosed with swimmer's ear when the baby, not being able to reach me, substituted Dane's very sore ear and gave it a hefty tug. Dane burst into tears, Daelyn was clueless, and Deanna sat humming tunes from Phantom of the Opera.
It's not that I mind the ear fixation, I just wonder how long it's going to last.
Scene in High School Locker Room
Hunk on Left: Wow, did you see the legs on that new cheerleader? They went all the way to
heaven.
Hunk on Right: Yeah, but they don't compare to that rack she's carrying around.
Daelyn: I couldn't help but noticed she has some righteous lobes!
The kids spotted Fr. John further down the way in the meat department and started yelling to him. To keep from attracting every man in the store named John, I sent the two older ones running to greet him while I picked the baby up out of our buggy. Distracted by what meat was on sale, as I approached him, I was oblivious to the fact that Daelyn thought it was naptime and had begun his pre-nap ritual of "nursy-rubbing". Fr. John took one glance and then bent down to Daelyn's eye level. "You have a fixation on breasts, little guy, and you better get over it, because not all women are going to be as accomodating as you mama" he announced, then added, "at least we hope not!"
Soon after, Daelyn discovered earlobes. He rubs, yanks, twists, sucks on ... Yesterday, we were at the drugstore picking up ear drops for Dane who was just diagnosed with swimmer's ear when the baby, not being able to reach me, substituted Dane's very sore ear and gave it a hefty tug. Dane burst into tears, Daelyn was clueless, and Deanna sat humming tunes from Phantom of the Opera.
It's not that I mind the ear fixation, I just wonder how long it's going to last.
Scene in High School Locker Room
Hunk on Left: Wow, did you see the legs on that new cheerleader? They went all the way to
heaven.
Hunk on Right: Yeah, but they don't compare to that rack she's carrying around.
Daelyn: I couldn't help but noticed she has some righteous lobes!
Monday, July 25, 2005
"So, you have an on-line blog..."
Last night, my husband, Don, says, "So, you have an on-line blog now. I can't even get you to check your e-mail daily." He leaves the rest unsaid, but the question is so obvious, there really is no need to voice it.
I smile with my back turned to him. Little does he know, I don't check my e-mails because it's only junk - nothing of interest to me. If friends wrote from time to time or I had opportunities to write creatively --- TA DA! The key!
We put the children to bed last night at 7:30, despite the groans and complaints. My daughter, Deanna, is leaving this Friday to spend a week with her grandparents. Unfortunately, the only week she could go was the week they are running the Vacation Bible School at their church. My mother-in-law wrote that she would love to have Deanna, but would this sweet little girl who turns into a tiger without enough sleep be able to get up at 7:00 in the morning so she can dress and have breakfast before they have to leave? So, Don decided this week is TRAINING WEEK - to bed at 7:30, up at 7:00.
Of course, the baby bounded out of bed around 6:00 a.m. He climbs into bed with me and pretends to snuggle when, in fact, it's a sly way of wiggling me off the edge of the bed and into a vertical position without too much complaining from Mom because, he claims, he's snuggling.
Got the dish drainer rack and the dishwasher unloaded and two loads of wash done, the baby fed (for those of you who don't know, the "baby" is 3 and well into toddlerhood, but will, even at 35, be fondly referred to as the baby), and untold other plans made before Dane (my 6 yr. old) came stumbling into the kitchen begging for breakfast. I quickly fed the boys and then nagged them into dressing and going outside to play. At 7:00, it's still cool enough to play outside without breaking into a sweat as the door opens. It took me until 7:30 to finally get them out the door. Then I made the mistake of leaving the kitchen to wake Deanna. I couldn't possibly have been gone longer than 5 minutes, but it was long enough for Dane to sneak back in the house and plant himself solidly in the middle of the den floor in front of an infomercial on T.V. Do other kids love infomercials? Mine seem to think they're as great as any cartoon. Of course, they also want to buy everything they see.
I shooed them back out again, which lasted a whole 15 minutes. Dane claims he's too hot, Deanna got bit by some kind of insect and is in excrutiating pain ("It hurts, Mommy, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!!"), and the baby follows his siblings wherever they go. I don't understand children. They complain constantly that they want to play outside and it's too hot, but when they have an opportunity to do it in relative coolness - it's a no go. Maybe because I suggested it. I bet if they thought of it themselves, they'd be burning up the swingset now.
I just have to remember that it's summer. In just one more month, they'll be back in school and lying prone in front of the T.V. will be a vague memory. Mommy's heart will break a little every morning as I send them off to be trained by someone other than me.
Ah, motherhood.
I smile with my back turned to him. Little does he know, I don't check my e-mails because it's only junk - nothing of interest to me. If friends wrote from time to time or I had opportunities to write creatively --- TA DA! The key!
We put the children to bed last night at 7:30, despite the groans and complaints. My daughter, Deanna, is leaving this Friday to spend a week with her grandparents. Unfortunately, the only week she could go was the week they are running the Vacation Bible School at their church. My mother-in-law wrote that she would love to have Deanna, but would this sweet little girl who turns into a tiger without enough sleep be able to get up at 7:00 in the morning so she can dress and have breakfast before they have to leave? So, Don decided this week is TRAINING WEEK - to bed at 7:30, up at 7:00.
Of course, the baby bounded out of bed around 6:00 a.m. He climbs into bed with me and pretends to snuggle when, in fact, it's a sly way of wiggling me off the edge of the bed and into a vertical position without too much complaining from Mom because, he claims, he's snuggling.
Got the dish drainer rack and the dishwasher unloaded and two loads of wash done, the baby fed (for those of you who don't know, the "baby" is 3 and well into toddlerhood, but will, even at 35, be fondly referred to as the baby), and untold other plans made before Dane (my 6 yr. old) came stumbling into the kitchen begging for breakfast. I quickly fed the boys and then nagged them into dressing and going outside to play. At 7:00, it's still cool enough to play outside without breaking into a sweat as the door opens. It took me until 7:30 to finally get them out the door. Then I made the mistake of leaving the kitchen to wake Deanna. I couldn't possibly have been gone longer than 5 minutes, but it was long enough for Dane to sneak back in the house and plant himself solidly in the middle of the den floor in front of an infomercial on T.V. Do other kids love infomercials? Mine seem to think they're as great as any cartoon. Of course, they also want to buy everything they see.
I shooed them back out again, which lasted a whole 15 minutes. Dane claims he's too hot, Deanna got bit by some kind of insect and is in excrutiating pain ("It hurts, Mommy, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!!"), and the baby follows his siblings wherever they go. I don't understand children. They complain constantly that they want to play outside and it's too hot, but when they have an opportunity to do it in relative coolness - it's a no go. Maybe because I suggested it. I bet if they thought of it themselves, they'd be burning up the swingset now.
I just have to remember that it's summer. In just one more month, they'll be back in school and lying prone in front of the T.V. will be a vague memory. Mommy's heart will break a little every morning as I send them off to be trained by someone other than me.
Ah, motherhood.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Justice and Mercy
The other day, while working with Deanna, my 8-yr. old, on some jewelry she was making, she announced that she really needed to talk to me.
"Do you think I'm forceful enough?" she asked - weighty question for her age. Not quite sure she meant what I thought she meant, I probed a little. "Do you think I stand up for myself enough?" she clarified. "For example, if I'm playing on the monkey bars by myself and four kids come over and tell me to get off cause they want to play, should I get off or tell them no?"
Deanna has always tended to be a very compliant child, not prone to stand up for herself. Although I don't want her to be a pushover, I also don't want her to be transformed into a bully. These parenting questions! Why can't she ever ask questions like, why is the sky blue or why do we need trashcans. No, not her. She jumps right to the biggies.
I responded that I think there are two things to remember when evaluating our own response to situations. First, we have a responsibility to be sure justice is done. Second, we must practice mercy. While it may be just to tell the other children that she was on the monkey bars first and they would have to wait until she was done, mercy may dictate that she get down and allow someone else to have a turn. The scripture, "Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with thy God" springs to mind.
I wonder if Deanna has any idea what I'm saying. Maybe if I begin to verbalize this criteria to her more often, it will sink in. Maybe if I begin to verbalize this criteria to myself more often, it will sink in.
So often, I find that the things I'm trying to teach my children are often my biggest challenges. Ah, motherhood - God's mercy for me.
"Do you think I'm forceful enough?" she asked - weighty question for her age. Not quite sure she meant what I thought she meant, I probed a little. "Do you think I stand up for myself enough?" she clarified. "For example, if I'm playing on the monkey bars by myself and four kids come over and tell me to get off cause they want to play, should I get off or tell them no?"
Deanna has always tended to be a very compliant child, not prone to stand up for herself. Although I don't want her to be a pushover, I also don't want her to be transformed into a bully. These parenting questions! Why can't she ever ask questions like, why is the sky blue or why do we need trashcans. No, not her. She jumps right to the biggies.
I responded that I think there are two things to remember when evaluating our own response to situations. First, we have a responsibility to be sure justice is done. Second, we must practice mercy. While it may be just to tell the other children that she was on the monkey bars first and they would have to wait until she was done, mercy may dictate that she get down and allow someone else to have a turn. The scripture, "Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with thy God" springs to mind.
I wonder if Deanna has any idea what I'm saying. Maybe if I begin to verbalize this criteria to her more often, it will sink in. Maybe if I begin to verbalize this criteria to myself more often, it will sink in.
So often, I find that the things I'm trying to teach my children are often my biggest challenges. Ah, motherhood - God's mercy for me.
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