Monday Morning Meditation - On Knitting

I guess it's the Mom in me, but every time I look at my kids - particularly when they are sleeping and very still - the verse about being "Knit in the mother's womb" runs through me. And just like with the counting of hairs last week, I am in awe. It is written as a Hymn, a song - Psalm 139 - 

1You have searched me, Lord,

and you know me.

2You know when I sit and when I rise;

you perceive my thoughts from afar.

3You discern my going out and my lying down;

you are familiar with all my ways.

The True Quiet Strength (of adulthood)

When I was younger... junior high age, roughly... I took to cussing. I remember vividly the first cuss word I ever intentionally said (after the initial, really-young, soap-in-the-mouth variety, that is). I remember where I was, why I said it, who I was with - and I have to tell you that it is a-maz-ing for me to remember all that detail, because my memory of such things is not always so hot. 

I'm the one on the front left in the oversized blue jacket - I was never one of the "in" crowd, but I had my friends.
Two of my four brothers are also in this shot
I won't identify any of them out of kindness.

29 Gifts Challenge

In the past, the boys have done prank wars to varying levels of success, until someone gets too overzealous and ticks someone else off in a real way. So with our birthday and holiday season upon us, and the house ready to hit high levels of

 fun and tension, I have challenged the boys to two things: The 2nd is to do "sneak" gift attacks on one another, without looking for the "glory" of a thank you or the accolades, etc. of doing something good for someone else. Doing good for the sake of doing good.  (The 1st I'll talk about a bit more below.)

Got downstairs after tucking everyone in to find these goodies on the counter waiting for me: (the oj is a prize as it is the last in the house and EVERYONE loves it!)

Whew! Another "Quickie"...

I have three other posts started and saved but no time to finish them right now while we pack up to move. So to keep things relatively "fresh" on here, I'm going to keep things simple with pictures of every day life over the last week or so...

  

 Baby boy hanging out, getting photographed by someone small. He's pretty amiable. I tried to get a picture of him with his purple ball, but he wouldn't sit still for me, just them.

Requiring Respect in Children

As a young child, my mother taught me that children should respect adults ... just because they were adults. That my respect was simply a requirement of my very existence. As an early teen, I had some friends convince me that "adults should have to 'earn' my respect." Actually, I had some adults who believed that as well. I carried some of that "earned respect" belief right up into adulthood.

Then my first child made it to five years old and decided to show that he didn't respect me as his mother. *ahem* His military Papa didn't agree with my earned-respect philosophy and our precocious boy got into trouble. In our sometimes heated discussions about this issue, he pointed something out to me that hadn't occurred to me before - something that I suppose should have been obvious:

A child's respect has already been earned!

A Tale of Two Mothers

Be an Encouragement to One Another

Today we were able to give Bruiser hearty celebration after listening to him read a book entirely on his own. In fact, he read it quickly enough that even Buttercup was sufficiently engaged! Such moments are a true "win" in any home and should be wildly - and widely (hence the blog post!) - acknowledged as special.

Is it My J.O.B. or J-O-Y?

At 16, I never thought I  would be a stay-at-home mom. Heck, I never really thought I'd be a mom of my own at all. I was sure that my calling was to adopt a bunch of children and raise them. My thinking was, "Why should I have children of my own when there are so many other children out there who need help?"

Well, fast forward a loooong time (about 20 years or so) and I have my wonderful five now, and adoption might still be part of my calling, but is by no means all of what I am called to do in my life. And staying in the Navy for 20 years was not part of the calling either, though I once thought it would be. But staying home, nursing babies, teaching pre-teens, and keeping house for twenty years (and a lifetime beyond) is part of that calling.

Rethinking Standards for Acceptability

There is something that has been weighing on my mind for a while now - and subconsciously I suppose I have been responding to the urge to make a change. As my children have grown, I've become increasingly aware of the objectionable content we are unwittingly, and sometimes un-willingly, exposed to, and the refrain has been:

If I protect my children from these images and ideas, how good are they for my own soul, development and moral compass?

Appreciating the Smallest Moments...

Here I continue the appreciation and recognition of my four wonderful children. The first part is posted here.

Smeagol was looking over my shoulder at some pictures I had e-mailed to the Grandparents. Maestro was labeled a "handsome boy," Buttercup was "Pretty Girl," etc. and then there was his picture in which he was labeled, "Goofy Boy" with the follow-up that I hoped it never changed about him.

He asked why he was "goofy" and enjoyed my answer when I pointed out that his shirt was a church shirt, partly tucked into Spiderman shorts, but only in front, and he had a huge goofy grin going. He takes some small delight in being goofy still. I know that will change as he gets older. It did for my brothers, it will for him.

Enjoying the Small Moments

The other day, Buttercup came to me while I was making dinner. She's two, and at a point where helping "make" dinner or pretending tea party is of high interest to her, so it was not unusual that she took out our smallest cutting board and wandered off with it. Until a short time later, when she returned, very pleased with herself, to show me her creation:

Crayon washes out - eventually - and it was only a cutting board,

Book Review: Wild Things

I am not usually impressed by parenting books - not any more. I've had too many children and seen too much in life to put any real stock in their advice. But every now and again I come across one that is easy to read in my very limited free time, that seems worth completing and that has some useful words of wisdom. Not only that, but in a house with several hundred books already on the shelves, space is at a premium for books I intend to keep around!

The book Wild Things: The Art of Nurturing Boys by Stephen James and David Thomas is a book I am only about 1/4 of the way finished with and am willing already to recommend it to every parent of boys that I know.

Whether your boy is a toddler or a teen, you are likely to find something of value in this book.

Sneaky

Last night... I did it. I snuck out. I have needed to buy some new underthings for a little while now, but it is hard to stand and look for the right size bras with three boys and a girl antsy to get moving on to do other things. And really, don't we all just need a little time for ourselves every so often? Even Mother Theresa took time each day for silent, personal prayer time during which she was alone.

So, as always, using that innate sixth sense that nearly-two-year-olds have, Buttercup came to me and was very agitated. I picked her up and told her that I would not be gone long, that she would stay home and play with her Pop and her brothers, etc. Don't we so often try to find a way to go out without all of the tears involved in helping our youngsters become comfortable with separation from us as parents? This is never an easy process but sometimes seems to be a needed one, at least for the parents. I have not felt it harmful for the child as long as we make sure they are with someone that is trustworthy and loves them - such as their Pop, in this case. When I told her I'd be gone for a little while, etc., she put her face in my shoulder and in a very muffled tone said, "No."

Not crying; not wailing or hollering, but just, "No."

Then I went up and got some change from Jeff's change box. I set the pennies and nickels on the table alongside a piggy bank that we have, (the "Nana Jar") for her to use. She took the ... ahem... bait immediately. I took that opportune time of distraction to take out a bag of trash - through the back door. And, looky-here, somehow the keys just happen to be in my pocket. So into the car I went, backing silently down the driveway in neutral with the engine off. Once I hit the street, I turned the key... and ran, leaving my pint-sized warden behind, happy and content with her pennies and bank.

At the mall, I got my new clothes, bought myself a small bag of swedish fish, and took my cell phone to a "corporate" store to see if it can be repaired or do I need to send it in for replacement? With that, I closed down the mall and headed home in triumph. Being that it was only 9:30 when I arrived home, the kids were all still awake but all were happy and well cared for. They had had "Papa time," which I think is important for children to get on occasion. Even Smeagol, at eight, has commented on society's tenancy to marginalize the father's role in the life of a child.

(How's that for home schooling? Yesterday we had a whole discussion about in-vitro fertilization and whether papas are really necessary for life and for children... I was a little surprised, I'll admit, because he doesn't tend to think that deeply on a lot of things, or so it seems, but there were good questions in there.)

And I agreed with him: Papas are more important than society - and sometimes our friends - give credit for. And so my sneaking out was of benefit to all. For me, surely, but to the rest of my family as well. Think I'll have to do that again every few weeks. Where to go next? Perhaps just for a walk in the park, or to get my hair done, or to take a friend out for tea, or.. or... or... so many options I will have to make time for them all!

Get Back to Work!

Diligence... Lacking in so many, so hard to maintain in oneself, especially when working from home. I have three jobs that I count as "top line" in my occupation list: my children (that encompasses homeschooling, training, upkeep, etc.), my house, and completing the books I've been working on for far too long. Obviously, my children are going to come first, then the house - work that I do throughout much of the day. But the books are contracted, I've been paid for them and have set my goal for finishing them up. Those books are far more important to me than any contract though. I suppose I need to explain...

Somehow, as a military spouse, you have more free time when your spouse is deployed. I've never been able to explain why that is, since when Jeff is not deployed I have an extra set of adult hands in the house to help me take care of things, but somehow I am busier when he is around. Regardless, when Jeff was deployed in 2007, I had enough time and extra money to start up on a business idea that I've long considered but never knew quite how to begin. My idea was to write personal histories for people - the family stories you tell around the dinner table at Thanksgiving, Christmas and family gatherings. I thought to record these family members telling their stories, transcribe them and put them into bound books.

As I researched the idea and looked for a printer, one printing company in Utah mentioned that they print short-run books for many clients that are members of the Association of Personal Historians. Well, I joined the association to get some inside tips on how to get started, and had someone contact me from Afghanistan. My new client had had five members of his unit killed while doing an operation on deployment; all five men had families and young children and the unit wanted to have memorial books made for each of the widows. The timing worked out perfectly for each little step of the way... at first. Then we hit some snags in getting the interviews made and to me through the military postal system. We were unable to truly get moving on the project until mid-2008 as a result.

I finished the interviews - again - at the end of summer, 2009. Throughout this year, I've worked on finishing the transcription and have only two interviews remaining before I put everything into its final form and get it to a printer - before my client leaves with his family for Europe. Needless to say, now time is ticking down. My conscience weighs on me with these books, but not because of my client, he has been beyond patient and understanding. I worry about making these books truly worthy of the memories contained inside. Most of the work I've done this year has been at night, after Buttercup is in bed, sound asleep. I can get more uninterrupted work done that way and get further along in less time.

In completing my degree earlier this year, I hope to have shown my children that their education is important; in completing these books, I hope to show that being thorough and taking care to do a good job are also important. Through other events this year, my children have also seen what happens when we don't worry about the smaller details: the extra work that someone else has to do when trying to pick up the pieces, or how much work we cause ourselves when we don't do the job correctly the first time. They have also seen that postponing the work does not profit them either. Schoolwork and chores still have to be taken care of, regardless of whether it's during work time or time designated for play.

Do they always understand the lessons we're trying to teach them? You and I never did as children and pre-teens, so I'm sure they don't either. I am equally sure that over time they will see these lessons manifested more and more as their friends are not always held up to the same standards or as they see people in their own age groups leaving work behind that has to be taken care of by someone else. So what now? What can I do, while Buttercup is napping, to show my children the value of diligence? I can...

Get back to work!