Monday, April 20, 2015
In Need of a Sisterhood
Why are there so many books, TV shows, and movies about "sisterhoods;" three or four girls who grow up best friends, inseparable, sharing everything? Because that's what we want, what we wish we had, what we wish we were capable of. Sometimes we even think we are not worthy of it, maybe because we don't think we can be that kind of friend, even if we want that kind of friendship. We want to be sought out, not always having to do the seeking. We want to be invited and included.
I say "we," but what I really mean is "I." I ache to be known, understood, allied with. This world tells me I am strong, independent, can do anything--and that's great.....and lonely. I want to be strong, with some amazing women by my side. I want them to have their own adventures, to share in the joy of their highs, and sympathise and empathise with their lows. I want to build them up, and be built up. I want a sisterhood. Think of some great ones you got to "share" in within literature or some other medium. The first few I can think of are The Babysitter's Club, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and Charlie's Angels. I even think of Hermione from Harry Potter, and I wonder if she ever felt lonely with just Harry and Ron--I mean, she was much smarter than the two of them, and pointed out quite often that she had different feelings and emotions than they did. Didn't she ever just want some girl friends her own age?
God created us in his own image. Us and the other ones--our counterparts. But we are uniquely imaged aren't we? As women we feel, express, and don't consider we experience something unless we share it with someone else. Therefore, if God created us in his image, then he seeks relationship too--yearns for it with us. And even though I know this, and love it, and fall into His loving arms, I want these female relationships in the here and now. I know what they feel like, have experienced them in wonderful array and length in many different places, and am still learning what they look like in this place. So if you're a woman who is looking for friendship in rural Perthshire--look me up--I'm open for an adventure or two (just don't forget the coffee).
Monday, March 30, 2015
10 Years On
On April 8, Dave and I will have been married for 10 years. 10 years of marriage. It seems like a huge milestone in today's society, where marriages last hours not decades. And yet, I can't say I am all that much wiser. I would probably say I have as much wisdom as a 10 year old child about marriage--she has a gist of it, but the finesse of doing it well is still on the way. So from my 10-year old point of view, here are 10 things I've learned about marriage in the last 10 years.
1) Adventures are a must. They don't have to be skydiving (although that is definitely on my bucket-list), but a cliff jump here and there, or a mountain bike adventure, or maybe just a daring dinner entree bring you closer together. Memories of the times when you tried something together cement your "togetherness," especially if it didn't go exactly as planned (food poisoning anyone?). Before we were married, we went on a short road trip through part of southern Ireland. For our anniversary we are doing it again, five days just the two of us! New memories and adventures to come!
2) His/her family is your family--learn to love them. Just the other day I said, "We could holiday with everyone this year! Your sister and her family, and your parents, all the kids together...I would be with your family, how could I NOT have fun?" And you know what, I meant every word! I love his family, because they love him, and they made him who he is. They built him up long before I knew him, encouraged him to take chances, travel, and that's how he met me. But even more than that--they are kind and generous, and fun, and they love me and our daughter. Yes we still argue sometimes, like all families do, but that just means we care enough to not always nod and agree.
3) Compromise will make you happier. I liked to do the dishes as the last bite of dinner was scraped off the plate--jumping up and clearing everything away. He liked to sit and chat, enjoy the meal and each other, after a day apart. So now I sit, take it all in, and maybe do the dishes while he bathes the toddler, or more likely the next morning after my coffee :). And he would rather get up on Saturday mornings and do something right away, but mornings and I aren't really buddies. He lets me sleep, and we do something later, or he gets up and goes with the toddler on his own, then comes back and makes us all a big brunch!
4) How you spend your money should be a joint discussion. We decided, probably before we got married, what was important to us when it comes to money. We wanted to spend our money relationally--coffees with friends, flying to visit family, supporting others as they pursue lives of purpose. That was our decision. So when we want to spend money on us stuff, it's not a huge deal, because it's an exception. We support each other's idea of what is a "good" way to spend money, and therefore we have no reason to hide how it is spent.
5) Your personal growth doesn't mirror their personal growth. When you learn and change, it's often easy to think your partner needs to change in the same ways. In my house, this goes a bit like this, "Hey I read this great article on parenting techniques today! I think you should check it out; you could learn a lot." Which sounds like this, "You suck at parenting, and need all the help you can get." Fascinatingly he doesn't respond well to that. Instead, when I read something that challenges me, I should and can share it without any expectation that he takes that on himself. We learn and grow in different ways, at different times, in different circumstances, using different mediums. Encouragement in times of learning, and excitement when your partner shares with you makes for a happier time of sharing.
6) Expectations = letdowns. Before you commit to someone, you have all these hopes and dreams, things that often they share with you in giddy excitement. Often, after commitment cements, those hopes turn into expectations, shifting from dreams to weights. Hoping someone will give you a good gift turns into disappointment that it didn't measure up. Remembering that your partner loves you, and wants to give you good things, to please, is better than expecting them to make your life joyful. Being joyful is your own choice, no matter the circumstance. Don't put the burden of your happiness on your partner. Share and serve each other, enjoy doing life together instead expecting them to give you the life you want.
7) Say "yes" more than "no." He is more adventurous than I am. My ideal adventure is reading a great book on an exotic beach somewhere. His is taking a rainy walk on a Saturday morning. But you know what, some of my favourite memories come from saying "yes" to things when I was thinking, "but I would rather just stay in my pjs on the couch." This goes for other things too, and generally it turns out to my advantage to say "yes."
8) Be on their side. We aren't the only ones that just want to be listened to sometimes, empathised with, and understood. Does this mean we always have to agree with them? No. But in the moment, when they are hurt, irritated, or angry because of someone else, it's better to listen than point out errors they may have made, or play devil's advocate. Later, if they need advice on a matter that is about their job, etc, then they will ask for it, or your opinion. But just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you always have to share it.
9) Remember how awesome you think they are. You remember when you were first starting your relationship, and you told your friends about them? What did you say? Awesome climber, great listener, adventurous, funny, easily made fun of themselves, made others feel at ease, a good teacher, a caring leader. Don't forget to tell them how proud of them you are, because they forget that they are still getting better, bolder, courageously pushing what "older" can do. Be their biggest fan, not just when it's the two of you.
10) Grace, grace, grace, and forgiveness. If I had to list every time I failed to do what I really want to do, I wouldn't have time for much else. If we really believe that failure often makes us stronger, pushes us to try harder, toughens us for the truly awful that life often throws at us, then we have to believe that with our partners too. Showing grace and forgiveness to our partners strengthens us as couples to succeed together, not fail alone. It's not easy, still 10 years down the road I always want to be right, but saying, "It's ok...let's try that again...can we start that conversation over...I forgive you...I'm sorry," will always be better than, "I told you so...why do you do that...just forget it...I'm fine."
So thank you darling, for helping me along this journey so far. I'm so glad we've experienced this together. I look forward to the next 10 years of adventures....and beyond <3 br="">
1) Adventures are a must. They don't have to be skydiving (although that is definitely on my bucket-list), but a cliff jump here and there, or a mountain bike adventure, or maybe just a daring dinner entree bring you closer together. Memories of the times when you tried something together cement your "togetherness," especially if it didn't go exactly as planned (food poisoning anyone?). Before we were married, we went on a short road trip through part of southern Ireland. For our anniversary we are doing it again, five days just the two of us! New memories and adventures to come!
2) His/her family is your family--learn to love them. Just the other day I said, "We could holiday with everyone this year! Your sister and her family, and your parents, all the kids together...I would be with your family, how could I NOT have fun?" And you know what, I meant every word! I love his family, because they love him, and they made him who he is. They built him up long before I knew him, encouraged him to take chances, travel, and that's how he met me. But even more than that--they are kind and generous, and fun, and they love me and our daughter. Yes we still argue sometimes, like all families do, but that just means we care enough to not always nod and agree.
3) Compromise will make you happier. I liked to do the dishes as the last bite of dinner was scraped off the plate--jumping up and clearing everything away. He liked to sit and chat, enjoy the meal and each other, after a day apart. So now I sit, take it all in, and maybe do the dishes while he bathes the toddler, or more likely the next morning after my coffee :). And he would rather get up on Saturday mornings and do something right away, but mornings and I aren't really buddies. He lets me sleep, and we do something later, or he gets up and goes with the toddler on his own, then comes back and makes us all a big brunch!
4) How you spend your money should be a joint discussion. We decided, probably before we got married, what was important to us when it comes to money. We wanted to spend our money relationally--coffees with friends, flying to visit family, supporting others as they pursue lives of purpose. That was our decision. So when we want to spend money on us stuff, it's not a huge deal, because it's an exception. We support each other's idea of what is a "good" way to spend money, and therefore we have no reason to hide how it is spent.
5) Your personal growth doesn't mirror their personal growth. When you learn and change, it's often easy to think your partner needs to change in the same ways. In my house, this goes a bit like this, "Hey I read this great article on parenting techniques today! I think you should check it out; you could learn a lot." Which sounds like this, "You suck at parenting, and need all the help you can get." Fascinatingly he doesn't respond well to that. Instead, when I read something that challenges me, I should and can share it without any expectation that he takes that on himself. We learn and grow in different ways, at different times, in different circumstances, using different mediums. Encouragement in times of learning, and excitement when your partner shares with you makes for a happier time of sharing.
6) Expectations = letdowns. Before you commit to someone, you have all these hopes and dreams, things that often they share with you in giddy excitement. Often, after commitment cements, those hopes turn into expectations, shifting from dreams to weights. Hoping someone will give you a good gift turns into disappointment that it didn't measure up. Remembering that your partner loves you, and wants to give you good things, to please, is better than expecting them to make your life joyful. Being joyful is your own choice, no matter the circumstance. Don't put the burden of your happiness on your partner. Share and serve each other, enjoy doing life together instead expecting them to give you the life you want.
7) Say "yes" more than "no." He is more adventurous than I am. My ideal adventure is reading a great book on an exotic beach somewhere. His is taking a rainy walk on a Saturday morning. But you know what, some of my favourite memories come from saying "yes" to things when I was thinking, "but I would rather just stay in my pjs on the couch." This goes for other things too, and generally it turns out to my advantage to say "yes."
8) Be on their side. We aren't the only ones that just want to be listened to sometimes, empathised with, and understood. Does this mean we always have to agree with them? No. But in the moment, when they are hurt, irritated, or angry because of someone else, it's better to listen than point out errors they may have made, or play devil's advocate. Later, if they need advice on a matter that is about their job, etc, then they will ask for it, or your opinion. But just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you always have to share it.
9) Remember how awesome you think they are. You remember when you were first starting your relationship, and you told your friends about them? What did you say? Awesome climber, great listener, adventurous, funny, easily made fun of themselves, made others feel at ease, a good teacher, a caring leader. Don't forget to tell them how proud of them you are, because they forget that they are still getting better, bolder, courageously pushing what "older" can do. Be their biggest fan, not just when it's the two of you.
10) Grace, grace, grace, and forgiveness. If I had to list every time I failed to do what I really want to do, I wouldn't have time for much else. If we really believe that failure often makes us stronger, pushes us to try harder, toughens us for the truly awful that life often throws at us, then we have to believe that with our partners too. Showing grace and forgiveness to our partners strengthens us as couples to succeed together, not fail alone. It's not easy, still 10 years down the road I always want to be right, but saying, "It's ok...let's try that again...can we start that conversation over...I forgive you...I'm sorry," will always be better than, "I told you so...why do you do that...just forget it...I'm fine."
So thank you darling, for helping me along this journey so far. I'm so glad we've experienced this together. I look forward to the next 10 years of adventures....and beyond <3 br="">
Friday, March 20, 2015
An Open Letter to J.K. Rowling
Dear Mrs. Rowling,
I hesitate to even start, as I'm not sure I've addressed you correctly. Did you take your husband's last name? Apologies if I have gotten it wrong. I feel a bit silly writing you, as I know you are ever busy, and haven't time for even a small fraction of your fan's letters, but I cannot sleep for writing you this letter in my head; forgive me, I feel this is mostly for my own benefit of a peaceful night's rest.
My father-n-law told me I should write you a letter, because I live just down the road from your house near Aberfeldy, and often daydream of running into you in a shop or pub, or perhaps The Birks Cinema. I don't often take his advice about these kinds of things, so know this is quite out of character. Once, I thought I glimpsed you in the corner of a pub in the centre of town, The Fountain, and my husband thought I was going to choke just from your association! I am always tempted to pick up extra copies of your Harry Potter books when I see them in the town thrift shop, just in case I need one handy if I see you.
Let me digress for moment, since the chances of you seeing this are slim, and I like to write/chatter. I own all the novels you have written, and have loved them dearly (ok, maybe not "Casual Vacancy," but all the rest). I have read the Harry Potter books through each year for the last several, gleaning something new and insightful from each new read. They are stories that inspire me, draw me in, and encourage through life's ups and downs. The Harry Potter series is quite dear to me, because it has inspired a generation of imaginative readers. You told them to be kind to the people who others aren't kind, to be true to their friends, to believe in each other, to be sacrificial in their love, to forgive (even Malfoy), to understand that people make mistakes. Thank you. For writing a story so raw and real in such a fantastical, creative way that we are still aching to be swallowed up by its pages.
Reading through another of your series now, the Robert Galbraith novels (did you think of that name form the realty company around here, it's name is Galbraith, I always wonder), I am in awe of your writing abilities once again. How you can first write so well for children growing up, and then still write something quite adult, a visceral crime scene. I think my favourite thing about all your characters is that there are generally no "evil people"--main characters who we are just told to hate for no reason. I love following your characters through their story as they make decisions that continue to make them into who they will become, and who they have already chosen to be.
In closing, I just want to tell you again how big of a fan I am. I am turning thirty-two in a couple of months, and having a themed party; can you guess the theme? I'm sure it will seem silly to others, but I am extremely excited. Dressing up as Professor Trelawney. This probably won't be the last time I dress as one of your characters, and it's not the first. So keep up the good work. I hope you are enjoying it, I know I am.
Sincerely, Your Ever Adoring Fan,
Leigh Nelson
P.S. You are obviously invited to the party, June 27th, in Ardeonaig. RSVP if you would so I don't have a heart attack.
I hesitate to even start, as I'm not sure I've addressed you correctly. Did you take your husband's last name? Apologies if I have gotten it wrong. I feel a bit silly writing you, as I know you are ever busy, and haven't time for even a small fraction of your fan's letters, but I cannot sleep for writing you this letter in my head; forgive me, I feel this is mostly for my own benefit of a peaceful night's rest.
My father-n-law told me I should write you a letter, because I live just down the road from your house near Aberfeldy, and often daydream of running into you in a shop or pub, or perhaps The Birks Cinema. I don't often take his advice about these kinds of things, so know this is quite out of character. Once, I thought I glimpsed you in the corner of a pub in the centre of town, The Fountain, and my husband thought I was going to choke just from your association! I am always tempted to pick up extra copies of your Harry Potter books when I see them in the town thrift shop, just in case I need one handy if I see you.
Let me digress for moment, since the chances of you seeing this are slim, and I like to write/chatter. I own all the novels you have written, and have loved them dearly (ok, maybe not "Casual Vacancy," but all the rest). I have read the Harry Potter books through each year for the last several, gleaning something new and insightful from each new read. They are stories that inspire me, draw me in, and encourage through life's ups and downs. The Harry Potter series is quite dear to me, because it has inspired a generation of imaginative readers. You told them to be kind to the people who others aren't kind, to be true to their friends, to believe in each other, to be sacrificial in their love, to forgive (even Malfoy), to understand that people make mistakes. Thank you. For writing a story so raw and real in such a fantastical, creative way that we are still aching to be swallowed up by its pages.
Reading through another of your series now, the Robert Galbraith novels (did you think of that name form the realty company around here, it's name is Galbraith, I always wonder), I am in awe of your writing abilities once again. How you can first write so well for children growing up, and then still write something quite adult, a visceral crime scene. I think my favourite thing about all your characters is that there are generally no "evil people"--main characters who we are just told to hate for no reason. I love following your characters through their story as they make decisions that continue to make them into who they will become, and who they have already chosen to be.
In closing, I just want to tell you again how big of a fan I am. I am turning thirty-two in a couple of months, and having a themed party; can you guess the theme? I'm sure it will seem silly to others, but I am extremely excited. Dressing up as Professor Trelawney. This probably won't be the last time I dress as one of your characters, and it's not the first. So keep up the good work. I hope you are enjoying it, I know I am.
Sincerely, Your Ever Adoring Fan,
Leigh Nelson
P.S. You are obviously invited to the party, June 27th, in Ardeonaig. RSVP if you would so I don't have a heart attack.
Saturday, March 07, 2015
Glass Houses
The saying "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" has, for some reason, caught my attention today. The saying possibly originated from Geoffrey Chaucer (I say possibly because the "most accurate looking" website I could find on short notice was a wiki site, so that's a loose "maybe" when looking for facts and accuracy). When this saying came to mind, I was thinking of my old pastor and his wife (and by old I mean, previous, because you guys are so young, hip, and trendy Jeff & Jodi!). I was talking to a mutual dear friend yesterday about the two of them (all good things), and how we both love the way in which they pursue ministry with a life of humane transparency. Humane in the way they continue to have faults, but loving in that they openly share them, confess them, ask for forgiveness for them. Loving in the way they show grace and mercy to those who wrong them. Down and dirty in the ministry of life.
So when the idiom "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" popped into my head, I thought, "Actually, shouldn't they be the exact ones that should?!" The transparency that Jeff and Jodi exhibit reminds me a living in a glass house. They surround themselves with people, invite them to see into the nooks and crannies of their parenting, daily exercise regime, and even glimpse into their marriage. They stand up and say, "We are not even close to perfect, but we love God, and we are seeking Him in our every day life, please join us."
As a Christian, I think this is a true portrayal of the way we should live--humble transparency--glass house. If we confess our sins (to God), open our lives up for others, and show that we have faults, that we are vulnerable, then we make it easier for others to hear us when we point out problems they may need support with conquering themselves. Kind of like AA--addicts share their addictions, and eventually they are allowed to mentor other addicts, share their story, and help them on their journey of redemption.
Some say the idiom refers to how people with vulnerabilities should not start fights, or how people with faults shouldn't point out the faults of others--a statement of hypocrisy. And while the Bible backs up the statement that those who refuse to look at their own faults shouldn't then point fingers (Matthew 7:3-5), it does not say those who have struggled, stumbled, begged for forgiveness, and gotten back up, should not then help others to do the same. In this way, we are throwing stones. I guess it's another way that God is helping me see that life with him is upside down--my weaknesses are His strengths, showing others His love through what he can do through me. We are one body, here to help all the parts to succeed for His glory.
So when the idiom "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" popped into my head, I thought, "Actually, shouldn't they be the exact ones that should?!" The transparency that Jeff and Jodi exhibit reminds me a living in a glass house. They surround themselves with people, invite them to see into the nooks and crannies of their parenting, daily exercise regime, and even glimpse into their marriage. They stand up and say, "We are not even close to perfect, but we love God, and we are seeking Him in our every day life, please join us."
As a Christian, I think this is a true portrayal of the way we should live--humble transparency--glass house. If we confess our sins (to God), open our lives up for others, and show that we have faults, that we are vulnerable, then we make it easier for others to hear us when we point out problems they may need support with conquering themselves. Kind of like AA--addicts share their addictions, and eventually they are allowed to mentor other addicts, share their story, and help them on their journey of redemption.
Some say the idiom refers to how people with vulnerabilities should not start fights, or how people with faults shouldn't point out the faults of others--a statement of hypocrisy. And while the Bible backs up the statement that those who refuse to look at their own faults shouldn't then point fingers (Matthew 7:3-5), it does not say those who have struggled, stumbled, begged for forgiveness, and gotten back up, should not then help others to do the same. In this way, we are throwing stones. I guess it's another way that God is helping me see that life with him is upside down--my weaknesses are His strengths, showing others His love through what he can do through me. We are one body, here to help all the parts to succeed for His glory.
Friday, March 06, 2015
Cuddles Lost
Dave's parents left this morning after a wonderful week of visiting. It has snowed here on and off, and would have been terribly lonesome being stuck here without them. We got to go on snowy walks, build snowmen, and Fi even got to sled with Nana. As for me, I enjoyed playing cards and Bananagrams, and sharing tea and cake with Mervyn and Sylvia. Plus, I got to go into town yesterday and meet a friend for lunch, get my hair cut, and wander through the thrift shop ALL BY MYSELF! It was wonderful. Not to mention sleeping in most mornings this week--in-laws are wonderful things, and generous people. But there was something I missed out on; my Fiona cuddles. When Nana and Pops are here, they get a lot of cuddles, snuggles, kisses, and attention. And rightly so, they are special people and fantastic grandparents...but Mommy misses out. Most mornings I would come in to Fiona sitting on the couch with Nana, reading books, and ask for a cuddle. "No Mommy, Nana gets the cuddles." Alas, I'm last on the list when Grands are around--oh well, it doesn't happen often enough, so that's alright. But this afternoon, after they had left to catch the ferry back to Belfast, Fiona once again climbed back into my lap and threw her arms around my neck. ~sigh~ I missed those arms, that smell, that soft love that only a little one can give. I soaked it in. I know I don't have too many more years of this left--but I'll treasure it while it lasts, then embarrass her anyway when she's "too old." ;)
Wednesday, March 04, 2015
Darkening Thoughts
I'm reading Lisette's List about a Parisian woman in a Provençal town during the Second World War. Not to ruin the story, but her husband dies pretty early on. I read mostly in the evenings/nights. It's terribly sad, yet inspiring, but also makes me think dark thoughts. What would happen to Fiona and I if Dave died? How would I tell her she will never see Daddy again? How would I not fall apart, oblivious to life outside of grief, for her sake? What would we do? Where would we go? Would we stay in the U.K. or go back to the States? Would we go back to the NC mountains, or near family in the piedmont? How would I just put her in childcare and go back to work after her world has fallen apart? How would I teach/work after my world has fallen apart?.....and the litany of questions goes on. Most of the time, I can keep myself from these "what if" questions. Is it ever a good thing to dwell on something that may not come to pass (for possibly quite a few decades)? And then there's the good fear of "we REALLY need to make a Will." Yes, we really quite should...must..eek can I just print one out right now?!? Well those are my thoughts for today...just in case you were wondering. ps--check out the book; it's good stuff, even the sad stuff.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Shlub
"Oh Danggedit." That's what Fiona says now when she does something she doesn't like by accident. Guess I've been saying the variant of that a lot lately, though it does make me realise I have cut down on hardcore swearing, so there's a plus. It's raining, slowly washing away the snow and replacing the sludge with more sludge. It was snowing heavily last night as I was driving home from book club, obliviously driving away from my lost debit card.
This morning, after I had already picked out things to buy at the bakery, I realized my debit card was missing. I was instantly angry at Dave because he had taken it out of my wallet A.G.A.I.N. without telling me!!! Thankfully I had some cash--that I was supposed to use to pay a lady for clothes I was buying from her, which now I was short a few. Ugh. I immediately texted Dave "Did you take the debit?!!!" And the clothes lady texted back with a "?"..."Ooops, that was for my husband :) ".....Then I called him, angrily, and yelled, which always makes people, especially husbands, want to be sympathetic of your stress and help you. Then I realized I had used it last, as in last night, late, so he couldn't have done it. Ooops. Danggedit. It must be me. I was frantic, because I am anal about that card, and I always put it back in the slot in my wallet where it goes (but that slot is getting loose...), so THEN I knew it had to have fallen out somewhere....in the snow....in town. I yelled all of this at my husband. He told me to stop being hateful and he would deal with it. He did, deal with it. He called the co-op, it had fallen down the side of the cash register, he went and picked it up, using up his lunch break to go to town and back.
The "funny" thing is, I was late for a Bible study with a friend--rushing to get everything done so as not to be late. We are studying a book that tries to guide us into better parenting.....hmmmm...maybe I need a marriage one next. I feel like I'm actually becoming a better parent, and a worse spouse. Double ugh. We will have been married for 10 years on April 8. I am so desperately looking forward to our anniversary trip--a trip just for us, not business, not Fiona, not other family, for a few days all to ourselves. Blessedly, Dave's parents are graciously watching Fiona--she can't wait, and wants to go tomorrow. I am thirsting for this trip, this time to reconnect, to remember that I was a wife first, and just to be his for a few days, to be each other's "person."
Until then I will keep praying for him, I'm pretty sure I've missed a day since the start of Lent, already. I'm going to do that now, and greet him first at the door tonight, and smile.
This morning, after I had already picked out things to buy at the bakery, I realized my debit card was missing. I was instantly angry at Dave because he had taken it out of my wallet A.G.A.I.N. without telling me!!! Thankfully I had some cash--that I was supposed to use to pay a lady for clothes I was buying from her, which now I was short a few. Ugh. I immediately texted Dave "Did you take the debit?!!!" And the clothes lady texted back with a "?"..."Ooops, that was for my husband :) ".....Then I called him, angrily, and yelled, which always makes people, especially husbands, want to be sympathetic of your stress and help you. Then I realized I had used it last, as in last night, late, so he couldn't have done it. Ooops. Danggedit. It must be me. I was frantic, because I am anal about that card, and I always put it back in the slot in my wallet where it goes (but that slot is getting loose...), so THEN I knew it had to have fallen out somewhere....in the snow....in town. I yelled all of this at my husband. He told me to stop being hateful and he would deal with it. He did, deal with it. He called the co-op, it had fallen down the side of the cash register, he went and picked it up, using up his lunch break to go to town and back.
The "funny" thing is, I was late for a Bible study with a friend--rushing to get everything done so as not to be late. We are studying a book that tries to guide us into better parenting.....hmmmm...maybe I need a marriage one next. I feel like I'm actually becoming a better parent, and a worse spouse. Double ugh. We will have been married for 10 years on April 8. I am so desperately looking forward to our anniversary trip--a trip just for us, not business, not Fiona, not other family, for a few days all to ourselves. Blessedly, Dave's parents are graciously watching Fiona--she can't wait, and wants to go tomorrow. I am thirsting for this trip, this time to reconnect, to remember that I was a wife first, and just to be his for a few days, to be each other's "person."
Until then I will keep praying for him, I'm pretty sure I've missed a day since the start of Lent, already. I'm going to do that now, and greet him first at the door tonight, and smile.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Putting On
The Starbucks New Mexico mug is my favourite. I have quite a few Starbucks city & state mugs, and I love them all, but N.M. is my first love. Every time I look at that mug, drink its steaming contents with a splash Starbucks caramel flavouring (no they are not paying me for all this advertising, but I wouldn't be against it), I think back to when I got it. I think of that road trip where I really met my two sisters--one younger, one older. Setting up the tent in the state park, we left the fly off because it was so warm. In the warmth, we decided to head for a night swim in the lake. We ran down the boat ramp--three skinny girls in our bathings suits--right past the "no swimming" sign. It was cold; we shrieked and took pictures and finally dove in for a quick lap out and back. The fishermen on the dock laughed, and said they wouldn't tell, they were fishing beside a "no fishing" sign after all. I think of the rabbits that kept running in front of our headlights as we went back to our campsite. And always the millions of stars I looked up to as we lay in our sleeping bags that night. I had never seen so many stars. I would not think of that night so often if I didn't have this mug. I would not think of how blessed I am to have two amazing sisters, and one very memorable adventure, just the three of us. You two are absolutely stunning you know--don't forget it--God made you fabulous, and I'm so glad you are mine :).
I've decided not to give up alcohol for Lent--there are just too many drinking holidays during this 40 day period. In all seriousness, I have decided to "put on" a few things. First, I'm going to write every day. Whether that be a letter, a journal entry, a love note, or a blog, just some form of writing every day to bring Him glory because he gave me joy in writing, and he loves when I am joyful! Second, I'm going to be more outward reaching--meeting people for coffee, or inviting people over, or just stopping and having a chat--all is welcome. And lastly, I'm going to pray every day with and for my husband. I love him, and I want to connect with his heart more, and prayer is a great place to start. So there it is, my Lent plan. Ask me how it's going--I'd love to chat! Now I gotta finish my coffee before it gets cold...again.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Lent, Not the Fuzzy Stuff
This Wednesday starts the Lenten period with Ash Wednesday. Growing up, I wasn't in tradition-based churches. The only thing I knew about Lent was that my Grandmother celebrated it, so I figured it was a Lutheran thing.
The first church Dave and I immersed ourselves in when we got married was The Grove (at that time Franklin Grove Baptist Church--it later dropped "Franklin" and "Baptist," and became a non-denominational church). Pastors also changed, and the new pastor brought new traditions, but also an opening of the church doors to flow out into the community more than into itself.
The outdoor centre where I was working wasn't too keen on Christians, as we tend to be relatively normal in our humanity, and screw things up quite often. I was no different. People there knew somewhat that I was Christian; I asked for Sunday mornings off if it was a possibility, and didn't get smashed and high every weekend, but other than that I wasn't too different. People were generous there--inviting you to enjoy what they had even though it usually wasn't much--hippies are cool that way. They taught me to be confident in my skin, my abilities. But though they were open to belief in living the good life--being spiritual within nature and their own bodies--they weren't sure about church (unless it was their definition, smoking pot by the lake on Sunday mornings). The Grove started to change that feeling.
The Grove started to serve down at the outdoor centre: serving meals when there were staff celebrations and having their band play good music. Generally being around, meeting people, showing up to live life with people. And not only at the outdoor centre, but in town too. They served hotdogs and chips during the Halloween celebration. They did a big production and free meal at the school gymnasium for Thanksgiving dinner. The band won best float in the Christmas parade one year--I think that was the year of the Grinch theme, or maybe Charlie Brown. A room in the church upstairs was filled with baby gear--clothes, diapers, blankets, cribs, etc, to give to families that needed them. And during the time leading up to Easter, it asked people to do something different.
So Lent begins this Wednesday. Lent is supposed to be a time of fasting--mirroring the forty days of fasting Jesus did in the desert, when Satan tempted him, but He withstood the temptations. The first year The Grove talked about Lent, I decided to fast two things I liked very much--celebrity gossip & coke (aka all soda in The South). I spent way too much time on celebrity gossip sites and magazines, and it was a wonderful thing to get out of that habit--at the end of the forty days it didn't come back. Coke did, but in moderation. That time was my first taste of giving something up for Lent. But the next few years of Lent involved a bit more effort. The Grove started to ask people not just to give something up, but to be more God-focused in their Lenten activities. It asked them to research charities and give to one. Invite people over for a meal once a week. Do without a shower at least once a week, praying for those without clean water, and giving to those causes. It asked us not to text or use our cell on certain days--to do everything personally, and talk to new people.
Every year since I have moved away from the mountains of North Carolina where The Grove Church is, I have looked at their Lenten calendar, and tried to implement as many of the things they asked of their congregation as possible. This year I return to thinking about that calendar.
I thought about just giving up alcohol for Lent--I've been drinking more since I moved to the U.K. Probably because it's more accepted here, and not the least because I have a toddler now who's constant energy and chatty communication drives me to the drink by 8 pm. I think it would be a healthy abstinence, but I'm not sure I would really be giving it up for the right reasons. Dave is thinking about giving up coffee, good on him, I'm not doing that. We considered maybe being more active during this time, walking or exercising, yoga-ing every day--but that seems more like a New Year's Resolution than Lent. I want to pray more, write more, exercise more, give more to people---maybe I'll do it all, but I'll probably check The Grove's calendar for ideas.
Whatever I decide, I want to make this time holy. Focusing on giving of myself, meditating on the scriptures, and being Christ to people in the every day, even if that's just paying for coffee for someone who needs it. It definitely will include trying to be a more loving, grace-filled mom to a loving, life-filled little girl.
The first church Dave and I immersed ourselves in when we got married was The Grove (at that time Franklin Grove Baptist Church--it later dropped "Franklin" and "Baptist," and became a non-denominational church). Pastors also changed, and the new pastor brought new traditions, but also an opening of the church doors to flow out into the community more than into itself.
The outdoor centre where I was working wasn't too keen on Christians, as we tend to be relatively normal in our humanity, and screw things up quite often. I was no different. People there knew somewhat that I was Christian; I asked for Sunday mornings off if it was a possibility, and didn't get smashed and high every weekend, but other than that I wasn't too different. People were generous there--inviting you to enjoy what they had even though it usually wasn't much--hippies are cool that way. They taught me to be confident in my skin, my abilities. But though they were open to belief in living the good life--being spiritual within nature and their own bodies--they weren't sure about church (unless it was their definition, smoking pot by the lake on Sunday mornings). The Grove started to change that feeling.
The Grove started to serve down at the outdoor centre: serving meals when there were staff celebrations and having their band play good music. Generally being around, meeting people, showing up to live life with people. And not only at the outdoor centre, but in town too. They served hotdogs and chips during the Halloween celebration. They did a big production and free meal at the school gymnasium for Thanksgiving dinner. The band won best float in the Christmas parade one year--I think that was the year of the Grinch theme, or maybe Charlie Brown. A room in the church upstairs was filled with baby gear--clothes, diapers, blankets, cribs, etc, to give to families that needed them. And during the time leading up to Easter, it asked people to do something different.
So Lent begins this Wednesday. Lent is supposed to be a time of fasting--mirroring the forty days of fasting Jesus did in the desert, when Satan tempted him, but He withstood the temptations. The first year The Grove talked about Lent, I decided to fast two things I liked very much--celebrity gossip & coke (aka all soda in The South). I spent way too much time on celebrity gossip sites and magazines, and it was a wonderful thing to get out of that habit--at the end of the forty days it didn't come back. Coke did, but in moderation. That time was my first taste of giving something up for Lent. But the next few years of Lent involved a bit more effort. The Grove started to ask people not just to give something up, but to be more God-focused in their Lenten activities. It asked them to research charities and give to one. Invite people over for a meal once a week. Do without a shower at least once a week, praying for those without clean water, and giving to those causes. It asked us not to text or use our cell on certain days--to do everything personally, and talk to new people.
Every year since I have moved away from the mountains of North Carolina where The Grove Church is, I have looked at their Lenten calendar, and tried to implement as many of the things they asked of their congregation as possible. This year I return to thinking about that calendar.
I thought about just giving up alcohol for Lent--I've been drinking more since I moved to the U.K. Probably because it's more accepted here, and not the least because I have a toddler now who's constant energy and chatty communication drives me to the drink by 8 pm. I think it would be a healthy abstinence, but I'm not sure I would really be giving it up for the right reasons. Dave is thinking about giving up coffee, good on him, I'm not doing that. We considered maybe being more active during this time, walking or exercising, yoga-ing every day--but that seems more like a New Year's Resolution than Lent. I want to pray more, write more, exercise more, give more to people---maybe I'll do it all, but I'll probably check The Grove's calendar for ideas.
Whatever I decide, I want to make this time holy. Focusing on giving of myself, meditating on the scriptures, and being Christ to people in the every day, even if that's just paying for coffee for someone who needs it. It definitely will include trying to be a more loving, grace-filled mom to a loving, life-filled little girl.
Saturday, February 07, 2015
Home...
Sometimes I wonder if I can ever truly be myself here. I try to be myself, but lighter--like S. Africa's Coke Light. Something that is me, but probably more of a heavy shadow. I know how people feel about the U.S.A. I didn't know until I was twenty. The first time I really understood how "the world" felt about us, I was a gappie in Ontario Canada. They "learned me good." I was defensive at first, only thinking of the way I was brought up, and the things I believed about my country. Then I started to swing the other way. When I was home I could see how other people saw it, but they could never experience it like someone from there--someone like me. It hurts to realize you have started to despise yourself, your country, because others do. It hurts to see and hear yourself diminish it to nothing--its accomplishments, its progressions, its humanity. America is me--I am from there, it is a part of me like every person who was born somewhere, who's from somewhere. My nationality is American. Even if I gave up my citizenship, which I don't plan on ever doing, I would be from there. It is like family. I know it can do amazing things, loving things, good things, but bad ones too. I know there are lots of gun-toting bigots, but there are lots of gun-toting servants too--those who hand out food and money and clothing to those who need it, those who give up themselves every day to those who don't know them. We like stuff--lots of stuff, but sometimes we give away lots of stuff too. I know we like to promote old white men, but we're realizing that the colors of the rainbow can rule the world. But sometimes I am sad, sad that everyone can't see the things I love about my country, and the things that make be proud to be me. I'm sad I can't be loud and rambunctious and lively not be called an "arrogant loud-ass American."
I just read this passage tonight, and I'm going to quote it in its entirety, because it brought me to tears with its feeling of loss--real loss of who you are. The book is called We Need New Names.
I just read this passage tonight, and I'm going to quote it in its entirety, because it brought me to tears with its feeling of loss--real loss of who you are. The book is called We Need New Names.
Look at the children of the land leaving in droves, leaving their own land with bleeding wounds on their bodies and shock on their faces and blood in their hearts and hunger in their stomachs and grief in their footsteps. Leaving their mothers and father and children behind, leaving their umbilical cords underneath the soil, leaving the bones of their ancestors in the earth, leaving everything that makes them who and what they are, leaving because it is no longer possible to stay. They will never be the same again because you just cannot be the same once you leave behind who and what you are, you just cannot be the same.
Look at them leaving in droves despite knowing they will be welcomed with restraint in those strange lands because they do not belong, knowing they will have to sit on one buttock because they must not sit comfortable lest they be asked to rise and leave, knowing they will speak in dampened whispers because they must not let their voices drown those of the owners of the land, knowing they will have to walk on their toes because they must not leave footprints on the new earth lest they be mistaken for those who want to claim the land as theirs. Look at them leaving in droves, ar in arm with loss and lost, look at them leaving in droves. (p. 146)
I love this new place. Its beauty inspires me every day. But I know in my bones where my heart sighs, my bones lighten, my memory returns year after year. My mountains, my rivers, my trees, my coffee shops. They are part of me--who I am. I can live somewhere else, but I cannot become someone else with happiness. The land is in me; it is me. take me as I am dear friends, take me as I am.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
I Am...
Strong, confident, independent, outgoing, talkative, energetic, sarcastic, fun-loving. I am...daughter, mother, sister, wife, cousin, granddaughter, friend. I am... It's easy to start answering that with the positives isn't it? Well, I'm confident, so I'll say yes ;). But if I want to go the other direction, though not as fun, it's still pretty easy. I am...often angry, a yeller, frazzled, impatient, ungracious, expecting more from others than I'm willing to give myself. If I had to pick one that I feel has defined me for quite a portion of my life, maybe even most of it, I would say, "yeller." I yell. And in that moment, I feel powerful. But in the next, I feel deep regret, to see the pain I've inflicted, pain that I cannot reverse, but only offer apologies for, try to mend.
As I was reading this morning, several verses stuck out to me. I've gotten in the habit of reading a bit in the Old Testament, and some in the New, when I do at all that is. In Psalms 9:20 it says, "Let the nations know that they are but men!" Ah, how relevant that is on a daily basis. I am just "man!" I cannot change things outside my power--I cannot bend time back and regain those minutes to do something more, or take back something that has been said, or change the weather to suit my needs, or heal a wound instantaneously (although kisses seem to work miracles on wee "boo boos"). I am but woman, do what woman can do. Then I flipped (and by flipped I mean tapped as I read mostly on my iphone) to Romans 6:12, 14, & 16-17,"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions...For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace...Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey...But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed." And here's what I got from that. I am a woman, and can do what only woman can. But I am a woman who has committed my life to Christ, have become a slave to Him, and therefore I DO NOT, I CANNOT be a slave to sin, if I am obedient to Christ.
You know I have heard that verse about not being a slave to two masters all my life, and I have always put weight on myself with it--just be better, you have to choose always the good. That's exhausting! But that's not what it's saying. It's saying--you were chosen, and you chose Christ yourself as well! Now you don't have to listen to that voice that says, "I must control it all! I must yell and storm and rage and exert my reign!!!" I don't have to--He will do it. I just have to sit, and let Him!
Well, at THIS moment I must let him, as my toddler is banging on her door (she's supposed to wait on me in her bed). I'm going to go get her, and hopefully bring her out to my lap, love on her, and pray for our family with her. Thanks for letting me share with you today!
ps--the snow has pretty much stopped, but the rain and wind is whipping itself into a frenzy! So there's ice, and a little less snow now. Hoping the roads are clear on Saturday so I can go to Perth for thrift shopping day!!!
As I was reading this morning, several verses stuck out to me. I've gotten in the habit of reading a bit in the Old Testament, and some in the New, when I do at all that is. In Psalms 9:20 it says, "Let the nations know that they are but men!" Ah, how relevant that is on a daily basis. I am just "man!" I cannot change things outside my power--I cannot bend time back and regain those minutes to do something more, or take back something that has been said, or change the weather to suit my needs, or heal a wound instantaneously (although kisses seem to work miracles on wee "boo boos"). I am but woman, do what woman can do. Then I flipped (and by flipped I mean tapped as I read mostly on my iphone) to Romans 6:12, 14, & 16-17,"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions...For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace...Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey...But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed." And here's what I got from that. I am a woman, and can do what only woman can. But I am a woman who has committed my life to Christ, have become a slave to Him, and therefore I DO NOT, I CANNOT be a slave to sin, if I am obedient to Christ.
You know I have heard that verse about not being a slave to two masters all my life, and I have always put weight on myself with it--just be better, you have to choose always the good. That's exhausting! But that's not what it's saying. It's saying--you were chosen, and you chose Christ yourself as well! Now you don't have to listen to that voice that says, "I must control it all! I must yell and storm and rage and exert my reign!!!" I don't have to--He will do it. I just have to sit, and let Him!
Well, at THIS moment I must let him, as my toddler is banging on her door (she's supposed to wait on me in her bed). I'm going to go get her, and hopefully bring her out to my lap, love on her, and pray for our family with her. Thanks for letting me share with you today!
ps--the snow has pretty much stopped, but the rain and wind is whipping itself into a frenzy! So there's ice, and a little less snow now. Hoping the roads are clear on Saturday so I can go to Perth for thrift shopping day!!!
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Snow Mom
I am sitting quietly in my living room, trying not to make enough noise to wake my toddler from her nap, as getting her to sleep today was an all-out battle. Apparently she's "still a baby" and does not want a new toddler bed, but prefers to stay in her crib/cot. Who knew. I think I should have made a front-loading plan for this like potty training. Oops. Now I've got to hard-ball it. Other than that it's a beautiful day out.
It's been snowing for a little over two days now. I haven't seen this much snow accumulation since I was a 20 year old living in Canada as an intern. There are feet of snow--British feet or U.S. feet it doesn't matter, there's both. Our cars have slowly disappeared. Fiona's little legs can't quite walk in the snow, and she doesn't really like being pulled in the sled because she keeps falling out face first. Thankfully the powder is very soft, and she doesn't mind too much. Her favourite thing to do is eat it. "We" made a snowgirl today--putting pine bows as her pigtails. Fi put on the arms and collected pebbles for the face and buttons. She was quite excited about putting on the carrot nose we begged from the centre kitchen.
Last night we made snow cream, which doesn't seem to be a thing here--no one has ever heard of making ice cream from snow. My Daddy use to make it any time we had a big snow as a kid, and I'm continuing that tradition. We even put sprinkles on top, and had it before dinner--dessert first! It's snowing again as I type; if this keeps up we are gonna run out of some essentials. I think I might be able to barter some milk from the centre, and we have enough frozen food to last a few more days, so we'll be fine. Thankfully Dave is all about making bread in the bread machine, we have two different homemade types right now. We will run out of fruit and fresh vegetables after today, but we have pizza, mac-n-cheese (which I brought back from the States), and hotdogs, so junk food it is! We also have gin, which is important, and some wine. So we're stocked!
Even though it's been snowing for a few days, Fiona still says, "It's snowing!!! Look Mommy it's snowing!" every time it picks up again. The dogs disappear in the drifts, and like it, except they would prefer grass to pee on. I'm worried I'm going to loose them--white dogs, white snow--what could go wrong?
Well, I thought I would write today, because I haven't in a long time, and thought maybe something profound would come out, but that was pretty much a journal entry. Well there ya go--a window into my soul ;). I really should start the fire now as my nose is getting cold even though I'm wrapped in a big fuzzy fleece. I wonder what the sheep are doing?
ps--I may participating in a Women's Rural olympics next week--apparently it consists of throwing beanbags in holes and seeing how many goals you can get with a soccer ball/football and the like--and we usually have the youngest team (aka some women in their 30's as opposed to 50's & up!). Should be "good crack" as the Irish say ;)
It's been snowing for a little over two days now. I haven't seen this much snow accumulation since I was a 20 year old living in Canada as an intern. There are feet of snow--British feet or U.S. feet it doesn't matter, there's both. Our cars have slowly disappeared. Fiona's little legs can't quite walk in the snow, and she doesn't really like being pulled in the sled because she keeps falling out face first. Thankfully the powder is very soft, and she doesn't mind too much. Her favourite thing to do is eat it. "We" made a snowgirl today--putting pine bows as her pigtails. Fi put on the arms and collected pebbles for the face and buttons. She was quite excited about putting on the carrot nose we begged from the centre kitchen.
Last night we made snow cream, which doesn't seem to be a thing here--no one has ever heard of making ice cream from snow. My Daddy use to make it any time we had a big snow as a kid, and I'm continuing that tradition. We even put sprinkles on top, and had it before dinner--dessert first! It's snowing again as I type; if this keeps up we are gonna run out of some essentials. I think I might be able to barter some milk from the centre, and we have enough frozen food to last a few more days, so we'll be fine. Thankfully Dave is all about making bread in the bread machine, we have two different homemade types right now. We will run out of fruit and fresh vegetables after today, but we have pizza, mac-n-cheese (which I brought back from the States), and hotdogs, so junk food it is! We also have gin, which is important, and some wine. So we're stocked!
Even though it's been snowing for a few days, Fiona still says, "It's snowing!!! Look Mommy it's snowing!" every time it picks up again. The dogs disappear in the drifts, and like it, except they would prefer grass to pee on. I'm worried I'm going to loose them--white dogs, white snow--what could go wrong?
Well, I thought I would write today, because I haven't in a long time, and thought maybe something profound would come out, but that was pretty much a journal entry. Well there ya go--a window into my soul ;). I really should start the fire now as my nose is getting cold even though I'm wrapped in a big fuzzy fleece. I wonder what the sheep are doing?
ps--I may participating in a Women's Rural olympics next week--apparently it consists of throwing beanbags in holes and seeing how many goals you can get with a soccer ball/football and the like--and we usually have the youngest team (aka some women in their 30's as opposed to 50's & up!). Should be "good crack" as the Irish say ;)
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Magical Unicorn Morning
My husband is gone for three days on a business trip. Usually he does mornings with our toddler. I'm not a morning person--I would prefer to stay in bed lounging or sleeping till about 10, get up, then have a leisurely breakfast. As it is, he gets up with her about 7:15, and then I get to sleep or snooze till 8:00 when he has to get ready for work. I like staying up late, extroverting by hosting movie nights or game nights at the house, or just sitting with a drink and chatting to whomever. When he's away I keep my nights pretty busy. Last night was no different.
I had a movie night and watched Malificent. It wasn't bad--not as good as I'd hoped though. The chat afterwards was more fun. We all sat around and talked about how differently Americans and Brits manoeuvre boss/minion tasks, different actors we like, upcoming holidays, etc. It was lovely. But then I looked at my clock and realized it was past 11 pm and I had to get up when the toddler does in the morning. Ugh. I usually get her up about 10 pm for a potty break, but since I was busy it was 11-ish by the time it happened.
This morning I saw light sliding into my room and knew it was a special day. "Light" doesn't really happen till closer to 8 am in the winter here. I heard Fi stirring in her room, and waited for the crying/"MOMMY!" It didn't come. Instead I heard her talking and playing with her stuffed animals. I lounged for 30 minutes before she called me. 8:30. It was awesome. Plus I had the whole bed to myself last night (I love my husband, but I love having the bed to myself too). Talk about rested!
I went in to get her milk, then picked her up and brought her in bed with me while we quietly snuggled and contemplated the morning--key word "quietly." I was enthused. I decided to attempt a "big" breakfast for a weekday. We trundled into the kitchen, and I turned on a some fun music. We danced happily around while I made scrambled eggs, cheese grits, and used the last of the wheaten bread for toast. We ate it all up. She helped feed the dogs, put away her dishes (all the plastic ones), and clean up the kitchen. I made coffee.
Now we are retiring in the "other room" or living room. She is coloring, and I'm writing! It is a Magical Unicorn Morning.
I had a movie night and watched Malificent. It wasn't bad--not as good as I'd hoped though. The chat afterwards was more fun. We all sat around and talked about how differently Americans and Brits manoeuvre boss/minion tasks, different actors we like, upcoming holidays, etc. It was lovely. But then I looked at my clock and realized it was past 11 pm and I had to get up when the toddler does in the morning. Ugh. I usually get her up about 10 pm for a potty break, but since I was busy it was 11-ish by the time it happened.
This morning I saw light sliding into my room and knew it was a special day. "Light" doesn't really happen till closer to 8 am in the winter here. I heard Fi stirring in her room, and waited for the crying/"MOMMY!" It didn't come. Instead I heard her talking and playing with her stuffed animals. I lounged for 30 minutes before she called me. 8:30. It was awesome. Plus I had the whole bed to myself last night (I love my husband, but I love having the bed to myself too). Talk about rested!
I went in to get her milk, then picked her up and brought her in bed with me while we quietly snuggled and contemplated the morning--key word "quietly." I was enthused. I decided to attempt a "big" breakfast for a weekday. We trundled into the kitchen, and I turned on a some fun music. We danced happily around while I made scrambled eggs, cheese grits, and used the last of the wheaten bread for toast. We ate it all up. She helped feed the dogs, put away her dishes (all the plastic ones), and clean up the kitchen. I made coffee.
Now we are retiring in the "other room" or living room. She is coloring, and I'm writing! It is a Magical Unicorn Morning.
Monday, November 03, 2014
Heroes of Our Reality
We all know them. We see them every day--they are family, friends, that guy around the corner, or the one we went to school with. Maybe we are them. Those people that have been put through the ringer by life, and were all expected to be shredded bits of a person, never amounting to much, because of the hand they were dealt. But they exceeded everyone expectations--they persevered, they grew lovelier, more loving, by the year. They are artists--in and of themselves or by the work they produce. And we marvel, that those who had no means to "be something" became more.
And yet, our society says that's not possible. That we are only products of the things we have been born into, subjected to. So how do these people exist? Well, evolution. Godly evolution. God created each of us to be God-centered beings--to seek him, to seek something greater than ourselves. He created us to be able to overcome, to grow, evolve, change, and sink into the strength that we were not given, but are able to receive from Him.
I was reading this morning about the story of Joseph in the Bible. He was not set up to be somebody that would succeed. His mom died when he was young, his dad favored him above all the rest of his brothers, and they hated him for it. His brothers literally sold him into slavory. Enslaved he did hard, honest work--but a lonely wife fancied him, and when he didn't return those affections, she told her husband he attacked her, and he was put in prison. His story goes on, and eventually he gets out of prison and becomes a great man in Egypt--his brothers end up having to beg him for food, and they are rightly afraid because of what they did to him. And yet he says, "Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good...don't be afraid" (Gen. 50:19-21).
God actually allows us to be greater than we can be. He loves us so deeply that he gives us the strength to achieve an outpouring of love when no earthly love has been given to us. What an amazing gift. We get to be the heroes of reality--to "bear up" when we are expected to fail, and point up and say, "It's all Him, to God be the glory." That's all He wants.
And yet, our society says that's not possible. That we are only products of the things we have been born into, subjected to. So how do these people exist? Well, evolution. Godly evolution. God created each of us to be God-centered beings--to seek him, to seek something greater than ourselves. He created us to be able to overcome, to grow, evolve, change, and sink into the strength that we were not given, but are able to receive from Him.
I was reading this morning about the story of Joseph in the Bible. He was not set up to be somebody that would succeed. His mom died when he was young, his dad favored him above all the rest of his brothers, and they hated him for it. His brothers literally sold him into slavory. Enslaved he did hard, honest work--but a lonely wife fancied him, and when he didn't return those affections, she told her husband he attacked her, and he was put in prison. His story goes on, and eventually he gets out of prison and becomes a great man in Egypt--his brothers end up having to beg him for food, and they are rightly afraid because of what they did to him. And yet he says, "Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good...don't be afraid" (Gen. 50:19-21).
God actually allows us to be greater than we can be. He loves us so deeply that he gives us the strength to achieve an outpouring of love when no earthly love has been given to us. What an amazing gift. We get to be the heroes of reality--to "bear up" when we are expected to fail, and point up and say, "It's all Him, to God be the glory." That's all He wants.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Enough Lessons Already/Beer-Thirty
I just put a cider in the fridge--it's just after 1 pm. If I didn't have a new babysitter coming over to meet our toddler at dinner time I might have just gone ahead and cracked it open. Today has been a "mountain" day with Fi. You know that saying, "Don't make mountains out of molehills?" Well, today she has just been climbing the mountains--no hills in sight. Every battle she chose was a battle I couldn't back down from--from climbing into the high windowsills to kicking the dogs to throwing dishes. If I were talking to another parent I would say, "terrible two's huh," but I gotta say, I am calling B.S. on that.
She's just over two. She sees, hears, understands, and misunderstands so much now. She knows about control, and she wants some. And I think that's normal, great, should be encouraged in a safe, loving way. Potty training has been a success! And now she says, "Wait outside Momma," so I do. And she says, "Me-me do it" (for some reason she calls herself "me-me"), and I let her try until she asks for help or succeeds. I think the "terrible two's" are something that happens when we stop parenting--when the tantrum wins every time, when we forget that freedom has limits. I'm not saying if your kid is strong-willed you are not parenting, I'm saying parenting is what happens when the strong-willed are loved into independence with care--and tears and sweat and probably some of our blood too (raise your hand if you have gotten a busted nose or lip or something from your child!!!).
Independence is something we all crave. But there are things that she just can't do, because if I let her do it, I wouldn't be a loving mom. I can't let her climb in the windowsills, because even though she is a great climber, she isn't a great walker, and rather uncoordinated once up to the height she would like to climb. She can't kick the dogs, because they are living things, family, and she needs to know that inflicting pain just because she feels frustrated is not a good way to deal with her emotions. She can't throw things around, because she needs to learn the value of things, and how to be a good steward (plus those things often hurt people or dogs).
It would be great if she only chose to push one of these issues a day, not one every 30 seconds, but today she has chosen them all, over and over again. And I. AM....I refuse to say tired, I'm am exhausted of saying and hearing that word...I am b r e a t h i n g slowly, and accepting all the grace that God is pushing my way.
I have not yelled today--which is a miracle, because I have fought not to be a yeller for the last 10 years, and I quite often fail. I have taken lots of deep deep breaths, I have teared up, I have let her scream and yell and tantrum in the hallway alone until she can calm down (and I can calm down). I have said, "I love you," "That's not loving, that's why it's not ok," "We do nice things because Jesus loves us, and it's how we show others He loves them too!" She has had quite a few "time outs." And even though I have not seen amazing, immediate results, I know this is parenting, that hard thing to do to help guide, shape, encourage a child to grow into an adult. A person that can be a blessing, a rock, a lovely beautiful, self-controlled, self-sufficient adult (I'll throw in well-rounded too).
Today has been full of lessons, most of them, probably all of them, learned by me. And today I have taken the time to be patient, knowing it's a process, that "Rome wasn't built in a day," and potty training took several bad days before it got good. But mostly letting God love on me by showing me that in the tough, teary, ugly, He is there, with more love, grace, kind words, and encouragement, ready to give it all if I will just say "yes please, and thank you."
So I put a cider in the fridge--and by that I mean a hard cider, because as much as I have tried (especially being married to an Irishman), I do not like beer. I also made sure my tonic water is chilled, just in case cider is not cutting it by bedtime (I do love a good Gin-n-Tonic). Because I know I will quite happily "wine-down" this evening once she is in bed, and thank God for that beverage, and hope I will be as open to receiving his small mercies tomorrow too.
ps--watch the movie Mom's Night Out if you haven't yet--I'm serious it is hilarious, and so relevant!!! And a great book to read for a stomping toddler is Rude Mule, well written enough toddlers can understand why being polite is so much nicer.
She's just over two. She sees, hears, understands, and misunderstands so much now. She knows about control, and she wants some. And I think that's normal, great, should be encouraged in a safe, loving way. Potty training has been a success! And now she says, "Wait outside Momma," so I do. And she says, "Me-me do it" (for some reason she calls herself "me-me"), and I let her try until she asks for help or succeeds. I think the "terrible two's" are something that happens when we stop parenting--when the tantrum wins every time, when we forget that freedom has limits. I'm not saying if your kid is strong-willed you are not parenting, I'm saying parenting is what happens when the strong-willed are loved into independence with care--and tears and sweat and probably some of our blood too (raise your hand if you have gotten a busted nose or lip or something from your child!!!).
Independence is something we all crave. But there are things that she just can't do, because if I let her do it, I wouldn't be a loving mom. I can't let her climb in the windowsills, because even though she is a great climber, she isn't a great walker, and rather uncoordinated once up to the height she would like to climb. She can't kick the dogs, because they are living things, family, and she needs to know that inflicting pain just because she feels frustrated is not a good way to deal with her emotions. She can't throw things around, because she needs to learn the value of things, and how to be a good steward (plus those things often hurt people or dogs).
It would be great if she only chose to push one of these issues a day, not one every 30 seconds, but today she has chosen them all, over and over again. And I. AM....I refuse to say tired, I'm am exhausted of saying and hearing that word...I am b r e a t h i n g slowly, and accepting all the grace that God is pushing my way.
I have not yelled today--which is a miracle, because I have fought not to be a yeller for the last 10 years, and I quite often fail. I have taken lots of deep deep breaths, I have teared up, I have let her scream and yell and tantrum in the hallway alone until she can calm down (and I can calm down). I have said, "I love you," "That's not loving, that's why it's not ok," "We do nice things because Jesus loves us, and it's how we show others He loves them too!" She has had quite a few "time outs." And even though I have not seen amazing, immediate results, I know this is parenting, that hard thing to do to help guide, shape, encourage a child to grow into an adult. A person that can be a blessing, a rock, a lovely beautiful, self-controlled, self-sufficient adult (I'll throw in well-rounded too).
Today has been full of lessons, most of them, probably all of them, learned by me. And today I have taken the time to be patient, knowing it's a process, that "Rome wasn't built in a day," and potty training took several bad days before it got good. But mostly letting God love on me by showing me that in the tough, teary, ugly, He is there, with more love, grace, kind words, and encouragement, ready to give it all if I will just say "yes please, and thank you."
So I put a cider in the fridge--and by that I mean a hard cider, because as much as I have tried (especially being married to an Irishman), I do not like beer. I also made sure my tonic water is chilled, just in case cider is not cutting it by bedtime (I do love a good Gin-n-Tonic). Because I know I will quite happily "wine-down" this evening once she is in bed, and thank God for that beverage, and hope I will be as open to receiving his small mercies tomorrow too.
ps--watch the movie Mom's Night Out if you haven't yet--I'm serious it is hilarious, and so relevant!!! And a great book to read for a stomping toddler is Rude Mule, well written enough toddlers can understand why being polite is so much nicer.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Musings
The weather is so strange today. If I lived coastally I would well be worried about a
hurricane. The winds are skittish,
and then suddenly violently raging.
The fog was so deep just five minutes ago I thought it must be snowing,
but now it’s sunny again, though the trees are still swaying perilously. I’m sure snow is not far off in this
weather, but at the moment the only thing of concern is that there is actually too
much water to kayak on (or so I’ve been
told—it was raining and I’m a fair-weather boater).
Fiona has done something to the computer once again. She only hit a button or two while I
was actually using it, but I didn’t see
which ones, and now I can’t even view the whole screen at once. I tried hitting the ‘zoom out’ buttons
but that hasn’t changed anything.
It’s a very odd feeling—like reading a “large print” book without
realizing it and wondering what is different.
Thursday night is my first go at being in another book club
since the one I started in Cali (I only got to go twice before we moved, but
they have “soldiered bravely on” without me). Last month was supposed to be my first month, but everyone
got the flu, so it was cancelled—I hope that wasn’t a bad omen and I missed it. This month there were three books
picked instead of the usual two, so I’ve read the first one and am halfway
through the second two. You’re
only really supposed to pick the one you think you would enjoy the most and
read that one—but of course I’m an overachiever and a teacher’s pet, and I want
them to like me! Being an American
can be tough here, or any place not there really, as we get the rep. of being
rather annoyingly loud and obnoxiously pompous (not underserved most of the
time). So I try to tone down the
pompous and use my “indoor” voice for the first few times I meet someone.
Well, I promised Fi we would “paint with the new paints”
when she got done resting. And
though she hasn’t really slept at all, she did quite happily play in her cot
for about half an hour. I picked
up some finger paints at ASDA the other day (British Wal-mart—owed by
Wal-mart—yes I have crossed over to the dark side), but as Fi has Hand, Foot
& Mouth Disease, I think we will just use the other new regular paints we
can use with brushes and sponges.
Wish me luck/let’s hope up it cleans up nicely.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Short End of the Stick
I have read quite a few books lately--some fiction, some non. Most of them have mentioned, if not centred around, the idea of motherhood from the child's perspective. These books include: Glitter and Glue, Orphan Train, and the letter Lift, as well as parts of My Name is Memory. Here are two passages from Glitter and Glue, by Kelly Corrigan, that really got me.
- I'd tell her [her mother] that I know now that there are no daughters who never embarrass harass, dismiss, discount, deceive, neglect, baffle, appal, incite, or insult their mothers...I don't long for other mothers anymore; i don't even wonder about them. I was meant to be her daughter, and I consider it a damn good thing that she, of all people, was the principal agent in my development. I want to tell my mom that I admire her...the way she marched head-on into each uncertain moment, changing as the circumstances demanded.
- This strikes me as a key to the story of my mother and me. She often said that I was a different person for my father, that I'd do anything for him, without an ounce of backtalk...She also said, Lemme tell you something Kelly, you changed me a lot more than I changed you. I didn't know adults could be changed, I thought they were finished pieces, baked through and kilndried. I never understood that when we fought my mother was having actual emotionl reations. I assumed her behavior was a front...designed to yield the best and safest possible kid...I see that, sturdy though my mother was, she must have been gutted by the sound and sight and sheer vibration of her rabid daughter raoging, I HATE YOU! I HATE YOUR GUTS! I HATE YOU FOREVER! I had thought a good mother would not elicit such comments, but now I see that a good mother is required to somehow absorb all this ugliness and find a way to fall back in love with her child the next day.
It does seem they will always favour their father over us--and how much does that suck sometimes?! And yet we want them to have a great relationship with their father, and appreciate they have one who cares and plays with them and is in existence on their radar. I hate looking back and seeing what I put my mother through--realising the difficult person I was as a teenager and beyond. I did idolise my father, still do, but now I realise how much of the hard stuff mom had to do on a daily basis that dad didn't, and I blamed her having to be the hard-ass.
My dad is an amazing man, I'm not trying to discredit that. But my mom is an amazing woman. The bluster can blow you back from time to time, and I have inherited the bluster, but I'm trying to somehow contain the rage that sometimes pops out as a mother---the rage mentioned below in this excerpt from letter Lift, also by Corrigan:
- I see how that happens now...coming unhinged over all manner of spilt milk--wet towels, unflushed toilets, lost brand-new! whatevers...Almost every day I yell at one of you so loudly that my throat hurts afterward...I hold it together and hold it together and then, when the bickering picks up again, I just detonate...I leaned down into your faces and ranted at you through set teeth, like the heartless tyrannical caretakers in movies about orphans. I was so disgusted with both of you; your impatient overreactions, your loss of self-control--then I turned right around and disgusted myself. If John Lennon was right that life is what happens when you're making other plans, parenthood is what happens when everything is flipped over and spilling everywhere and you can't find a towel or a sponge or your "inside" voice.
And yet, though we need to step up to our growth, dig into our development as "non-ragers," there is a point where we have to give ourselves some grace. Another passage from Lift helps me see the truth of this.
- I am your mother, the first mile of your road. Me and all my obvious and hidden limitations. That means that in addition to possibly wrecking you, I have the chance to give to you what was given to me: a decent childhood, more good memories than bad, some values, a sense of tribe, a run at happiness. You can't imagine how seriously I take that--even as I fail you. Mothering you is the first thing of consequence that I have ever done.
Motherhood is effing unfair sometimes. It's so stinking hard if you are trying at all--it blindingly bruising on the hard days. But it is a precious gift. I do know that. I know that in the moments my two year old looks up at me through those thin strands of blond hair she pulled out of her hair band for the dozenth time that day and smiles, giggles rising up and out of her throat just because. I know that as I proudly listen to her tell her daddy about what she did that day, or repeat a difficult phrase someone is asking her to say perfectly. I know that when I watch her take a hard fall from running flat out towards something she wants, getting up, brushing off, and saying, "I ok Mommy." I know that when I kiss her goodnight and she cries for one more kiss, cuddle, and snuggle. I know that. But I know the hard days too, and I pray that God gives me grace to overflow to her, more and more each year, to teach her not just who she doesn't want to be, but who she does.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Would I believe?
I'm looking up the hill out my living room window this morning--seeing clearly the white dots of sheep ambling all over. Yesterday Dave, Fiona, and I went back to the Callandar swimming pool together. It was so fun! I found some swimmies/water wings at a thrift shop just before we went, and she tried them out for the first time. She had a hard time remembering to keep her mouth closed, and was nervous having her mouth close to the water, but quickly became braver and ventured further away from me each time I let her go. It's so much to watch her grow in her independence.
This morning I have been reading in John, chapters 11 & 12, in and around the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Every time I read this account, I wonder how the Pharisees could still ignore the power of Christ. Lazarus had been in his grave for four days--traditionally bound with funeral wraps, and when Christ said, "Lazarus, come forth," he did! How did they rationalise that happening by anyone other than God himself?!...And then I remember my faith.
What if Jesus walked the earth today--with our technology and knowledge of science and how things work? Would have tried to rationalize away the miracles that Christ did? Don't I still? Surrounding me are millions are God's creations that I walk by without a glance of acknowledgment every day. Miracles happen every day, and don't I often find myself asking, "Was that God, or just a coincidence?" This is why sometimes I doubt that God is good all the time--because I refuse to notice daily, hourly, minute-by-minute the things he does to hold this world together and further his kingdom, shining his glory and grace on this world that rejects him.
His growth in me are these moments: the whispers and knowledge and moments of absolutely awe in the things he has done for us--to show us his glory and power and love, to show us the only way forward is in him. I often imagine God as my heavenly father, sitting on his lap much like climbing onto the Lincoln Monument in billowing robes and soft arms and a warm laugh. I know he loves when I grow a little, get braver, see his heart a little clearer. He laughs at my awe of discovery; smiles at my wobbly antics as I try to get it right. His pride is in his glory shining through my created humanity. Thank you Father.
This morning I have been reading in John, chapters 11 & 12, in and around the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Every time I read this account, I wonder how the Pharisees could still ignore the power of Christ. Lazarus had been in his grave for four days--traditionally bound with funeral wraps, and when Christ said, "Lazarus, come forth," he did! How did they rationalise that happening by anyone other than God himself?!...And then I remember my faith.
What if Jesus walked the earth today--with our technology and knowledge of science and how things work? Would have tried to rationalize away the miracles that Christ did? Don't I still? Surrounding me are millions are God's creations that I walk by without a glance of acknowledgment every day. Miracles happen every day, and don't I often find myself asking, "Was that God, or just a coincidence?" This is why sometimes I doubt that God is good all the time--because I refuse to notice daily, hourly, minute-by-minute the things he does to hold this world together and further his kingdom, shining his glory and grace on this world that rejects him.
His growth in me are these moments: the whispers and knowledge and moments of absolutely awe in the things he has done for us--to show us his glory and power and love, to show us the only way forward is in him. I often imagine God as my heavenly father, sitting on his lap much like climbing onto the Lincoln Monument in billowing robes and soft arms and a warm laugh. I know he loves when I grow a little, get braver, see his heart a little clearer. He laughs at my awe of discovery; smiles at my wobbly antics as I try to get it right. His pride is in his glory shining through my created humanity. Thank you Father.
Friday, August 08, 2014
one day past "swimming cool"
Sometimes I gaze out the windows and see nothing I recognise. There are tiny things of all different shapes waving from taller things of slender-ish presence. These stand in and between and before rounded mounds rising from beneath, dotted with moving beings. Colours vibrant and dim splash across hedged bundles and green fuzzy covered heaviness, stacked one atop the other. Something squinty makes an appearance from time to time, between droplets on my window panes. These mornings are weary--these days of unrecognisable things, preceded by nights of wakings. Muscles seem sorer than the previous day, and I think back to why these things have occurred.
It's lunch time--but even though our bellies are nye near empty, noses, faces, hands, lips are pressed eagerly to the glass, reaching towards the aching nearness of the "swimming cool" on the other side. We prod them to eat, each bite a laborious regime of torment when happiness is so tantalisingly near. Our "stood" ground slips, and '2 more' becomes 'all done.'
My lips curve naturally as the wave of chlorinated smell fills me up--this is happiness to me, Mr. Buble'--this smell brings memories more abundant than can be recounted. It blows past my ears, whispering my hair as we enter.
Pitter-paterings are herded into stalls, bathing costumes donned (I am embracing these foreign words--of my choosing--some of them are rather exotic, and they bubble in my mouth). The excitement that is the warm showers before entering is entered into.
I've just warmed my coffee for the 3rd time. The haziness is being embraced--but pj's have actually been shed AND replaced with practical clothes and it's before noon. Progress.
Whether it will be too warm or too cold quickly passes as splashing feet somewhat timidly enter. All becomes joy. Gentle. No running. Wait for Mommy. We float we jump we jump we jump...we c l i m b out, we s l i d e in. again again again. There are lifeguards with socks and shoes on...how will they swim like that? Just like My Daddy I lace her fingers around my neck and we swim the length of the pool--kick kick I say--this is harder than I thought it would be; I smile reassuringly to the l.g. so he knows I am not going to drown with this Little on my back.
Heads go under and splutter back up, wide-eyed, but not crying. Cuddles are warranted and wanted. They go on with their waddling water adventures, up down side to side back & forth. A nose it dipped in, this and that ear, bubbles are blown, and quite a bit of water is consumed. Skin wrinkles. Is there another happiness to find? Yesssss....ice cream is promised. We patter back through the warm sprinklings and towel and dry and disrobe and rerobe and squeal and promise again.
The refreshedness has worn off by the time the car is reached. We are back in town--and cones of "ice 'ceam" are proffered. Mommies "help with the melting." Faces are happily melted onto. Caffeine energy is earned for the trip home--as toddlers fight naps in the back seat, but helplessly yield.
These are the days that preface mornings of haze, but today, as my coffee cools for the fourth time, I remember that my muscles weary from happiness, and I can smile instead of gloom into those pools of blue that are her eyes.
It's lunch time--but even though our bellies are nye near empty, noses, faces, hands, lips are pressed eagerly to the glass, reaching towards the aching nearness of the "swimming cool" on the other side. We prod them to eat, each bite a laborious regime of torment when happiness is so tantalisingly near. Our "stood" ground slips, and '2 more' becomes 'all done.'
My lips curve naturally as the wave of chlorinated smell fills me up--this is happiness to me, Mr. Buble'--this smell brings memories more abundant than can be recounted. It blows past my ears, whispering my hair as we enter.
Pitter-paterings are herded into stalls, bathing costumes donned (I am embracing these foreign words--of my choosing--some of them are rather exotic, and they bubble in my mouth). The excitement that is the warm showers before entering is entered into.
I've just warmed my coffee for the 3rd time. The haziness is being embraced--but pj's have actually been shed AND replaced with practical clothes and it's before noon. Progress.
Whether it will be too warm or too cold quickly passes as splashing feet somewhat timidly enter. All becomes joy. Gentle. No running. Wait for Mommy. We float we jump we jump we jump...we c l i m b out, we s l i d e in. again again again. There are lifeguards with socks and shoes on...how will they swim like that? Just like My Daddy I lace her fingers around my neck and we swim the length of the pool--kick kick I say--this is harder than I thought it would be; I smile reassuringly to the l.g. so he knows I am not going to drown with this Little on my back.
Heads go under and splutter back up, wide-eyed, but not crying. Cuddles are warranted and wanted. They go on with their waddling water adventures, up down side to side back & forth. A nose it dipped in, this and that ear, bubbles are blown, and quite a bit of water is consumed. Skin wrinkles. Is there another happiness to find? Yesssss....ice cream is promised. We patter back through the warm sprinklings and towel and dry and disrobe and rerobe and squeal and promise again.
The refreshedness has worn off by the time the car is reached. We are back in town--and cones of "ice 'ceam" are proffered. Mommies "help with the melting." Faces are happily melted onto. Caffeine energy is earned for the trip home--as toddlers fight naps in the back seat, but helplessly yield.
These are the days that preface mornings of haze, but today, as my coffee cools for the fourth time, I remember that my muscles weary from happiness, and I can smile instead of gloom into those pools of blue that are her eyes.
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
Mommy-bodies & a new-found enjoyment (Shhhh, don't tell Dave)
I am currently doing the 90-day-bikini-body-mommy challenge on youtube with my older sister. It is not something I would usually do for fun, well let's face it, traditional exercise is not something I would usually do for fun. I seriously hate most of the exercises--burpees, you are my nemesis. But, ~whispery voice~ I'm kinda starting to rock this new schedule/regime.
About 8 am every day Fiona and Dave walk quietly into the bedroom (usually Dave is reminding Fi with our "shh shh shh" sounds, and she is repeating that). She says, "hi mommy!" then climbs into bed with me, pulling her books, baby, and whatever other toys she decides to bring with her each morning, while Dave hops into the shower. Fi and I read or play "tent" in the bed, then she hops down to brush her teeth with Daddy. We give goodbye kisses, and "snuggles!" and "cuddle!" and wave to Daddy.
I pull on my stretchy workout clothes, and we trundle off to the living room (I love that word "trundle"--it is so very fun), where I pull up the bikini-body-mommy video for the day and roll out my mat. Fi, still in her footie pyjamas, and usually holding "Little Baby," jumps around beside me as I do push-ups or jumping jacks or "figure skaters" (my favourite) for ten to twenty minutes.
Sweaty, a bit breathless, and smelly, with Fiona yelling "Again! Again!" we head into the bathroom so I can take a shower (morning showers--crazy!!! I have always been a staunch night-time shower girl). Fi's current toy of choice is her block shape sorter. I jump/limp into the shower. While Fi, on the other side of the shower door, holds up blocks and we talk about what shape and colour they are--and if I'm not out in five or so minutes she starts yelling, "Out! All done Mommy! All done shower!" To which I reply "Almost...soon....ok ok I'm done." She then grabs my towel for me (to which I remind her, "No, not the little one/hand towel, BIG one"), and I check the weather app to see if I should pull on a sweater or a tank top (it's Scotland, so let's face it, it's usually a sweater, but these 3 weeks of summer have been really amazing).
Then we scuttle off to the kitchen (like that, eh? Scuttle?) so I can eat breakfast--Fi, my wee hobbit, usually has second breakfast. If I can hide the yogurt from her (she loves yogurt, but it's usually a treat/dessert for her), I have my favourite breakfast--yogurt, granola, + fresh fruit. Then she plays with Play-doh or colours while I do a few dishes or we put the laundry on (if it's going to be a nice day aka the clothes actually getting dry).
About ten o'clock I put Fi down in her cot for a rest. Sometimes she sleeps, most of the time she just plays with her stuffed animals. I make myself a cup of coffee, browse the internet a bit, then read my Bible. If I still have time, I write (hey! Look at that! I had time today!).
About now--she wakes up/gets done with playing and yells "Mommy coming!!!" which means I am supposed to be coming ;).
I'm now 9 days into this new regime--the soreness of the first week is finally wearing off, and it's starting to feel good! I may actually like exercising in the morning/at all. I maybe am starting to feel refreshed by the invigorated feeling of accomplishment after my short morning workout. I just might like this morning showering thing...but there's 81 days to go still, so I'll hold off commenting till later ;).
About 8 am every day Fiona and Dave walk quietly into the bedroom (usually Dave is reminding Fi with our "shh shh shh" sounds, and she is repeating that). She says, "hi mommy!" then climbs into bed with me, pulling her books, baby, and whatever other toys she decides to bring with her each morning, while Dave hops into the shower. Fi and I read or play "tent" in the bed, then she hops down to brush her teeth with Daddy. We give goodbye kisses, and "snuggles!" and "cuddle!" and wave to Daddy.
I pull on my stretchy workout clothes, and we trundle off to the living room (I love that word "trundle"--it is so very fun), where I pull up the bikini-body-mommy video for the day and roll out my mat. Fi, still in her footie pyjamas, and usually holding "Little Baby," jumps around beside me as I do push-ups or jumping jacks or "figure skaters" (my favourite) for ten to twenty minutes.
Sweaty, a bit breathless, and smelly, with Fiona yelling "Again! Again!" we head into the bathroom so I can take a shower (morning showers--crazy!!! I have always been a staunch night-time shower girl). Fi's current toy of choice is her block shape sorter. I jump/limp into the shower. While Fi, on the other side of the shower door, holds up blocks and we talk about what shape and colour they are--and if I'm not out in five or so minutes she starts yelling, "Out! All done Mommy! All done shower!" To which I reply "Almost...soon....ok ok I'm done." She then grabs my towel for me (to which I remind her, "No, not the little one/hand towel, BIG one"), and I check the weather app to see if I should pull on a sweater or a tank top (it's Scotland, so let's face it, it's usually a sweater, but these 3 weeks of summer have been really amazing).
Then we scuttle off to the kitchen (like that, eh? Scuttle?) so I can eat breakfast--Fi, my wee hobbit, usually has second breakfast. If I can hide the yogurt from her (she loves yogurt, but it's usually a treat/dessert for her), I have my favourite breakfast--yogurt, granola, + fresh fruit. Then she plays with Play-doh or colours while I do a few dishes or we put the laundry on (if it's going to be a nice day aka the clothes actually getting dry).
About ten o'clock I put Fi down in her cot for a rest. Sometimes she sleeps, most of the time she just plays with her stuffed animals. I make myself a cup of coffee, browse the internet a bit, then read my Bible. If I still have time, I write (hey! Look at that! I had time today!).
About now--she wakes up/gets done with playing and yells "Mommy coming!!!" which means I am supposed to be coming ;).
I'm now 9 days into this new regime--the soreness of the first week is finally wearing off, and it's starting to feel good! I may actually like exercising in the morning/at all. I maybe am starting to feel refreshed by the invigorated feeling of accomplishment after my short morning workout. I just might like this morning showering thing...but there's 81 days to go still, so I'll hold off commenting till later ;).
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