We had a really crappy, stressful, unexpected event happen yesterday -- I won't go into details, but it was (interestingly?) my first "test" in my fork-in-the-road analogy. The event occurred and I forced myself to face that fork -- how am I going to let this affect me? It was difficult, I have to admit. My initial physical/emotional reaction was unconscious -- my heart felt like it was being squeezed, I wanted to cry, my stomach felt upset. But I recognized that I had a choice to make, so I made myself do just that. I must have looked rather foolish, talking to myself in the car (very loudly) as this occurred, but it was the only way that made it real for me, and as difficult as it was, I made the choice. So at the end of the day, when I picked Don up from work and he slumped into the car with that all-too-familiar look of depression, I said to him, "Come on, Don -- what fork are you going to take? Make the choice." I'm not sure if it worked on him. It just felt angry -- not at him, but at the situation. Not fear or depression or sadness -- just anger. The problem isn't resolved, so this is going to be a long, pins-and-needless kind of weekend. But I hope we can continue to make that same choice, not to let this ruin our days.
But if that doesn't ruin my day today, then other events will. I am in mourning, for three reasons. First of all, my entire post here mysteriously vanished, so I am forced to write it all over again. What a complete drag. And then last night -- Wednesday night -- was my last sacred night for the season. I was glued to the season finale of "America's Next Top Model," and while it was a great episode (as expected), and I successfully predicted the outcome, it still has come to an end. I have to admit that I did enjoy my weekly escape into the world of high fashion modeling (crazy!). I also have to admit that I did feel rather couch-potato-ish, sitting there quite blobbily while watching these young women wearing some negative-size clothing strut around like funny horses. But hey -- at least for that hour I didn't have to think about anything.
The other item of mourning stems from the outrageously ridiculous and downright stupid results from "American Idol" (my other "reality" vice), where "America" -- which knows absolutely nothing -- booted off the best, most amazing vocalist this show has ever seen in all its years on the tube. This woman is beyond fabulous, and now she's gone -- which once more proves that this show is not a true singing competition but a popularity contest. Don and I were absolutely dumb-struck. I immediately emailed my friend Jen, another aficionado, and she and her husband were equally appalled. I suppose I have a fierce love-hate relationship with this show, and it's due to stupid situations like this where "hate" becomes the operative word. I'm not even sure I want to watch the finale next week -- while the two remaining contestants are fun in their own way, neither of them deserve the title as much as the other.
So now I must await my doom to the wasteland of summer television. In other words, I'll be doing a lot of reading, which is a good thing. One highlight of the summer, though, is highly anticipated by both Don and myself: "Hell's Kitchen." If you haven't seen this "reality" show, and you love food and crazy people, it is well well worth it.
What a lame entry today. That's OK -- I'd rather delve into this realm of complete un-reality than deal with the other stuff. Today I'm heading back out into the garden to plant the last of the flowers we purchased yesterday, making the proverbial hay while the sun doth shine, for tomorrow rain is forecasted again. Don is taking the day off tomorrow, as well as Monday (a promised four-day weekend, due to his work at the expo last week), so we have lots of errands and other tasks to catch up on. One way-overdue task is to pay a trip to the DMV to finally get our car transferred over to NJ and get new plates (we already have new licenses). So off I go to greet the sunshine and take care of the last of my portulaca, coleus, and ageratum. Here's hoping for a good day.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Hooked on Paison-ics!
I received this in an email from a friend recently, and it completely cracked me up. I live in a big mafia area -- NY/NJ -- in reality as well as fiction. The accents around here are so unique -- I've been removed from it for long enough so it all sounds very new to me again (I believe I spoke this way once upon a time ... my friends so very often commented on certain words I just couldn't shake, such as "caw-fee," "aw-ll," "chaw-clet" etc.) Now it's all back with a vengeance. Don and I both are interested in mafia history, and there have been recent events in this immediate area, an evolving story splashed across the front page of the paper nearly every day involving gambling rings, two "families," an upcoming testimony, and a whacking outside of a diner. It's all very, very surreal.
Anyway, this clip is hilarious (and so true!) -- moving from "ebonics" to "paisonics," how to understand your Italian-American neighbors. I think I'll chow down on some "gabba-gool" and "mooz-a-rell" while I take another listen. Click on this link and enjoy!
(Note: OK, since I'm rather new at this blogging thing I can handle the typing and writing, but I'm still trying to figure out the cool technology options. The best I could do is insert this link, which brings you to some silly woman's web page ... I couldn't link you directly to the wav.file itself. Sorry!)
Anyway, this clip is hilarious (and so true!) -- moving from "ebonics" to "paisonics," how to understand your Italian-American neighbors. I think I'll chow down on some "gabba-gool" and "mooz-a-rell" while I take another listen. Click on this link and enjoy!
(Note: OK, since I'm rather new at this blogging thing I can handle the typing and writing, but I'm still trying to figure out the cool technology options. The best I could do is insert this link, which brings you to some silly woman's web page ... I couldn't link you directly to the wav.file itself. Sorry!)
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
A Fork in the Road, Part II
Back to the grindstone ... The other day 's entry was a lot easier for me to write about. This one is not. Maybe because some of my latest realizations are all rather new and I'm not quite sure how to articulate them. These last few days have been following a similar "pattern," feeling flooded by thoughts, conversations, and themes that all seem to point to something I really need to think about. OK, so I understand the fact that I really need to start thinking about forgiveness, as difficult as it might be. There is definitely a fork that I am facing, and there is definitely a choice that I have to make.
But there's more beyond that, isn't there. Yet another fork to face -- or just a continuation of this current fork in front of me? Whatever the case, last week was pretty powerful for me. It all started on Monday, with a phone call from Don. He experienced something very traumatic for him, and it brought all of the pain right back to the forefront, for him and for me. I spent the whole day crying, feeling like I was living last fall all over again, feeling like any shred of healing that had occurred over these past four months had been completely eradicated. Again, I went back to that place of darkness, that place of questioning, that place of fear ... I experienced everything I was trying to move away from, and here it was again, staring me in the face. It was a horrible, horrible day for both of us. But then a tremendous thing happened: it didn't last. At least not for me. I felt it, I mourned it, I suffered it ... but then it washed away. For the first time in a long, long time I was able to almost step back and look in, and I was able to see not only the situation for what it was, but this time I was able to almost visibly see that fork in front of me. In reality, the situation in and of itself wasn't a big deal -- yeah, it wasn't pleasant for Don to experience, but as an isolated incident, taken in its context, it really wasn't a big deal. However, for someone dealing with PTSD, for someone whose life has been torn apart in some ways, for someone who is not yet healed, it was a big deal. I get that -- I really do. But then I looked past that and saw this fork ... what choice do we have here? The fork on the left said, continue to feel victimized, continue to let something like this (which will happen over and over again ... it's called life) just tear you to shreds and completely disable you. OR -- take the right fork, somehow find the strength to step outside of the situation, recognize it for what it is, and figure out a way to push through it. Writing this all down, it doesn't seem like a big deal; indeed, it seems like common sense. But when you've been hurt, and are hurting, it's not so black and white. So this was my day on Monday ... that pea-soup fog was starting to dissipate even more, but I still wasn't quite sure what to do with all of this.
The next day was quite a turning point for me. In the morning I was still pretty flustered by the previous day's events, combined with my swirling thoughts about God, His will, how much do I read into things and when do I let it go ... it was getting to a rather upsetting level, to the point where I felt that brief respite from the pea-soup fog was over and it was rolling back in with fury. It suddenly struck me that, for the first time in 11 years, I finally had a pastor of my own! Being married to one, I know I cannot have the same man as my husband and my pastor. Yet now I thought, "Hey! I should really take advantage of this!" and so I did. I took my kids to their home, they played with their kids, I had the freedom to talk and try to straighten things out. It was tremendously helpful and I was able to see some things very clearly: while I am not completely healed from our experiences, and I definitely got a little messed up in the head along the way, I am nevertheless in a much better place than I was and that was encouraging. Yet I couldn't shake this feeling that the situation earlier in the week was so eerily similar to what we had experienced in the past ... a different face, but the same words, the same behavior, even the same week of it all starting! Are we supposed to learn something here?
I realized I had to break this all down. What we experienced last fall was hell -- it really was. It was wrong on so many levels. We were hurt with a malice and a purpose that was just incredible and unbelievable. But looking at this week's situation for what it was, I realized that this was different; it was just "life." Everyone faces this kind of thing -- in the workplace, in their communities. So why should it be any different for us? While the similarities between these situations were downright creepy, there were also fundamental differences ... and those differences were crucial, I believe, in being able to diffuse the situation and become empowered to push through it. Hence the fork, and the lesson: do we take the fork that will find us completely debilitated every time someone looks at us cross-eyed? Or do we take the other fork, gathering up the courage and strength to push through it? Our counselor called this "exposure therapy." I think he might be right. Again, the fog dissipated a bit and the choice became extremely clear.
I was feeling much better by Tuesday afternoon, but then Tuesday evening proved to be incredibly mind-blowing for me. My mom had invited me to a Women's Tea at my aunt's church, something they host every year in the spring. The speaker this year was Jennifer Sands, a woman who lost her husband during the 9/11 attacks in New York (he worked for Cantor-Fitzgerald in Tower One). Her talk was her testimony and it was extremely powerful. I wish I had a recording of it, for throughout the entire thing I kept saying to myself, "Don needs to hear this!" I knew this would be an incredibly evening, for when she went up to the podium, the screen flashed the first image of her PowerPoint presentation: an image of a road, with a huge detour sign next to it, with the title blazing across the top, "Traveling Life's Journey." I got shivers ... here I was, at this "random" tea with my mother and my aunt, and she's talking about the very thing, the same theme, as my blog! My own journey, my own questions, my own experiences ... and here I am, seeing it up on the screen! It was just wild. I hung on every word.
She wasn't much of a Christian (her words) at that point, and for that next year after she lost her husband she went through her own version of the Lament Psalms -- questioning God, railing and ranting at Him, more questions. But then she started to change. One of her phrases really stuck with me: "I stopped asking 'why?' and starting asking 'what?'" She stopped asking why God would do this to her, why God would allow this to happen, and instead starting asking God, "What do you want me to do with this? What do you want me to learn? What do you have in store for me?" The entire talk was based up on the theme of a journey, of roadblocks and detours and road signs, of coming to fork after fork after fork and needing to make the choices necessary to continue on or get stuck. Her major fork was trust: do I continue to live in fear and distrust and anger, or do I take that step of faith and trust that God is indeed sovereign, that whatever roadblocks pop up to mess up the journey, that God is still guiding, still caring, still working things out to move you forward.
And all of a sudden it hit me with tremendous force that this is my fork too: trust. Do I stay in this dark and fearful place, or do I learn to trust again? That sudden realization was huge for me: this has truly become a trust issue for me. Without realizing it, I became afraid to trust God. I had come to this strange place where I started to believe that trusting God only lead you to hurt and pain. But through her words, I realized that that really isn't true. There really is so much freedom, such liberation, in trusting God with this journey, and for the first time I truly saw that this was a major crossroads for me, and a major choice that I had to make.
I could go on and on about that evening -- it was just one of the most powerful things I've experienced in recent months. But did I all of a sudden fall to my knees, with a light shining down on my head and angelic voices heralding some heavenly chorus while I raised my arms in the air? Ummm ... no. Remember, I'm not a charismatic. :) Do I suddenly feel 20 pounds lighter, as if a huge load was lifted from my shoulders? Not really. (But ooooooh, wouldn't that be nice!!!). What I feel for the first time is a clearer vision, not necessarily seeing what God is doing, still not understanding why this all happened, but feeling that, yes, I am able to trust again. I am better able to see those forks when they appear, and I feel better able to make the choices necessary to move forward, all the while trusting in God's leading. I feel like a newborn wobbly colt but it's happening. For the first time in a long time, I feel like a major hole has been punched through that pea-soup fog and some bright blue sky is shining through.
And you know what? On the following day -- Wednesday -- I was able to pray for the very first time in months and months. I mean, really pray. I was driving home after I dropped Aidan off at school, and I was alone in the car. It was gorgeous day, the sky was a brilliant blue dotted with pure white clouds ... a perfect day. And in that moment I felt that I had absolutely no choice but to pray. I unloaded my anger, my bitterness, my rage, my fear, my inability to trust ... it truly was freeing. I could almost feel that hold breaking, slowly but surely. Maybe I do need to visualize things more to help me work through this: visualizing forks in my path, visualizing the choices I have to make as I see myself standing at the crossroads, visualizing this hold on me and watching the fingers grasping the side of the cliff slowly slip off one by one. I had purchased two of Mrs. Sands' books at the tea -- "A Tempered Faith" and "A Teachable Faith" -- and I am now reading the first one. It's gut-wrenchingly sad, the story of 9/11 and her unbelievable loss. But what is astounding me, page by page, is that while the circumstances are different (thank God!) her reactions, her words, her feelings, her insights are exactly what I'm experiencing now. It's been tremendously helpful -- and hopeful. But one thing I do know, too -- this is going to a discipline for me. A major discipline. Working through this forgiveness, working through unpleasant things that will inevitably pop up in our lives. It won't be easy. I know I will do a little back-sliding from time to time. But I pray that I can cling fiercely to this new-found hope, this new-found way of looking at things, this new-found trust.
Phew. I'm tired! It was difficult getting all of this out into words. I feel a little like Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672) in her poem, "The Author to Her Book" where she writes,
Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did'st by my side remain ...
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight,
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I wash'd thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet.
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun Cloth, i' th' house I find ...
I'm glad I was able to make the attempt. Now I really have to start my day and get my butt moving. I've got some great gardening ahead of me today! But it was good to start it this way. Thanks for allowing me to do so. This was my prayer, in a sense. I'm glad this window is starting to open, letting in some fresh air in my up-until-now rather stagnant existence. Spring has definitely sprung, and new beginnings are a pretty wonderful thing.
But there's more beyond that, isn't there. Yet another fork to face -- or just a continuation of this current fork in front of me? Whatever the case, last week was pretty powerful for me. It all started on Monday, with a phone call from Don. He experienced something very traumatic for him, and it brought all of the pain right back to the forefront, for him and for me. I spent the whole day crying, feeling like I was living last fall all over again, feeling like any shred of healing that had occurred over these past four months had been completely eradicated. Again, I went back to that place of darkness, that place of questioning, that place of fear ... I experienced everything I was trying to move away from, and here it was again, staring me in the face. It was a horrible, horrible day for both of us. But then a tremendous thing happened: it didn't last. At least not for me. I felt it, I mourned it, I suffered it ... but then it washed away. For the first time in a long, long time I was able to almost step back and look in, and I was able to see not only the situation for what it was, but this time I was able to almost visibly see that fork in front of me. In reality, the situation in and of itself wasn't a big deal -- yeah, it wasn't pleasant for Don to experience, but as an isolated incident, taken in its context, it really wasn't a big deal. However, for someone dealing with PTSD, for someone whose life has been torn apart in some ways, for someone who is not yet healed, it was a big deal. I get that -- I really do. But then I looked past that and saw this fork ... what choice do we have here? The fork on the left said, continue to feel victimized, continue to let something like this (which will happen over and over again ... it's called life) just tear you to shreds and completely disable you. OR -- take the right fork, somehow find the strength to step outside of the situation, recognize it for what it is, and figure out a way to push through it. Writing this all down, it doesn't seem like a big deal; indeed, it seems like common sense. But when you've been hurt, and are hurting, it's not so black and white. So this was my day on Monday ... that pea-soup fog was starting to dissipate even more, but I still wasn't quite sure what to do with all of this.
The next day was quite a turning point for me. In the morning I was still pretty flustered by the previous day's events, combined with my swirling thoughts about God, His will, how much do I read into things and when do I let it go ... it was getting to a rather upsetting level, to the point where I felt that brief respite from the pea-soup fog was over and it was rolling back in with fury. It suddenly struck me that, for the first time in 11 years, I finally had a pastor of my own! Being married to one, I know I cannot have the same man as my husband and my pastor. Yet now I thought, "Hey! I should really take advantage of this!" and so I did. I took my kids to their home, they played with their kids, I had the freedom to talk and try to straighten things out. It was tremendously helpful and I was able to see some things very clearly: while I am not completely healed from our experiences, and I definitely got a little messed up in the head along the way, I am nevertheless in a much better place than I was and that was encouraging. Yet I couldn't shake this feeling that the situation earlier in the week was so eerily similar to what we had experienced in the past ... a different face, but the same words, the same behavior, even the same week of it all starting! Are we supposed to learn something here?
I realized I had to break this all down. What we experienced last fall was hell -- it really was. It was wrong on so many levels. We were hurt with a malice and a purpose that was just incredible and unbelievable. But looking at this week's situation for what it was, I realized that this was different; it was just "life." Everyone faces this kind of thing -- in the workplace, in their communities. So why should it be any different for us? While the similarities between these situations were downright creepy, there were also fundamental differences ... and those differences were crucial, I believe, in being able to diffuse the situation and become empowered to push through it. Hence the fork, and the lesson: do we take the fork that will find us completely debilitated every time someone looks at us cross-eyed? Or do we take the other fork, gathering up the courage and strength to push through it? Our counselor called this "exposure therapy." I think he might be right. Again, the fog dissipated a bit and the choice became extremely clear.
I was feeling much better by Tuesday afternoon, but then Tuesday evening proved to be incredibly mind-blowing for me. My mom had invited me to a Women's Tea at my aunt's church, something they host every year in the spring. The speaker this year was Jennifer Sands, a woman who lost her husband during the 9/11 attacks in New York (he worked for Cantor-Fitzgerald in Tower One). Her talk was her testimony and it was extremely powerful. I wish I had a recording of it, for throughout the entire thing I kept saying to myself, "Don needs to hear this!" I knew this would be an incredibly evening, for when she went up to the podium, the screen flashed the first image of her PowerPoint presentation: an image of a road, with a huge detour sign next to it, with the title blazing across the top, "Traveling Life's Journey." I got shivers ... here I was, at this "random" tea with my mother and my aunt, and she's talking about the very thing, the same theme, as my blog! My own journey, my own questions, my own experiences ... and here I am, seeing it up on the screen! It was just wild. I hung on every word.
She wasn't much of a Christian (her words) at that point, and for that next year after she lost her husband she went through her own version of the Lament Psalms -- questioning God, railing and ranting at Him, more questions. But then she started to change. One of her phrases really stuck with me: "I stopped asking 'why?' and starting asking 'what?'" She stopped asking why God would do this to her, why God would allow this to happen, and instead starting asking God, "What do you want me to do with this? What do you want me to learn? What do you have in store for me?" The entire talk was based up on the theme of a journey, of roadblocks and detours and road signs, of coming to fork after fork after fork and needing to make the choices necessary to continue on or get stuck. Her major fork was trust: do I continue to live in fear and distrust and anger, or do I take that step of faith and trust that God is indeed sovereign, that whatever roadblocks pop up to mess up the journey, that God is still guiding, still caring, still working things out to move you forward.
And all of a sudden it hit me with tremendous force that this is my fork too: trust. Do I stay in this dark and fearful place, or do I learn to trust again? That sudden realization was huge for me: this has truly become a trust issue for me. Without realizing it, I became afraid to trust God. I had come to this strange place where I started to believe that trusting God only lead you to hurt and pain. But through her words, I realized that that really isn't true. There really is so much freedom, such liberation, in trusting God with this journey, and for the first time I truly saw that this was a major crossroads for me, and a major choice that I had to make.
I could go on and on about that evening -- it was just one of the most powerful things I've experienced in recent months. But did I all of a sudden fall to my knees, with a light shining down on my head and angelic voices heralding some heavenly chorus while I raised my arms in the air? Ummm ... no. Remember, I'm not a charismatic. :) Do I suddenly feel 20 pounds lighter, as if a huge load was lifted from my shoulders? Not really. (But ooooooh, wouldn't that be nice!!!). What I feel for the first time is a clearer vision, not necessarily seeing what God is doing, still not understanding why this all happened, but feeling that, yes, I am able to trust again. I am better able to see those forks when they appear, and I feel better able to make the choices necessary to move forward, all the while trusting in God's leading. I feel like a newborn wobbly colt but it's happening. For the first time in a long time, I feel like a major hole has been punched through that pea-soup fog and some bright blue sky is shining through.
And you know what? On the following day -- Wednesday -- I was able to pray for the very first time in months and months. I mean, really pray. I was driving home after I dropped Aidan off at school, and I was alone in the car. It was gorgeous day, the sky was a brilliant blue dotted with pure white clouds ... a perfect day. And in that moment I felt that I had absolutely no choice but to pray. I unloaded my anger, my bitterness, my rage, my fear, my inability to trust ... it truly was freeing. I could almost feel that hold breaking, slowly but surely. Maybe I do need to visualize things more to help me work through this: visualizing forks in my path, visualizing the choices I have to make as I see myself standing at the crossroads, visualizing this hold on me and watching the fingers grasping the side of the cliff slowly slip off one by one. I had purchased two of Mrs. Sands' books at the tea -- "A Tempered Faith" and "A Teachable Faith" -- and I am now reading the first one. It's gut-wrenchingly sad, the story of 9/11 and her unbelievable loss. But what is astounding me, page by page, is that while the circumstances are different (thank God!) her reactions, her words, her feelings, her insights are exactly what I'm experiencing now. It's been tremendously helpful -- and hopeful. But one thing I do know, too -- this is going to a discipline for me. A major discipline. Working through this forgiveness, working through unpleasant things that will inevitably pop up in our lives. It won't be easy. I know I will do a little back-sliding from time to time. But I pray that I can cling fiercely to this new-found hope, this new-found way of looking at things, this new-found trust.
Phew. I'm tired! It was difficult getting all of this out into words. I feel a little like Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672) in her poem, "The Author to Her Book" where she writes,
Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did'st by my side remain ...
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight,
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I wash'd thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet.
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun Cloth, i' th' house I find ...
I'm glad I was able to make the attempt. Now I really have to start my day and get my butt moving. I've got some great gardening ahead of me today! But it was good to start it this way. Thanks for allowing me to do so. This was my prayer, in a sense. I'm glad this window is starting to open, letting in some fresh air in my up-until-now rather stagnant existence. Spring has definitely sprung, and new beginnings are a pretty wonderful thing.
Monday, May 14, 2007
The Motherhood of Mama Duck
I greeted Mother's Day yesterday somewhat bummed because I hadn't seen my husband in days and he would be missing from this day as well. But surprisingly, I really had a wonderful day. I was completely exhausted -- these kids wear me out! -- but I have to say that they were really, really great while their Daddy was gone. This morning we went to church, and it was a little strange for me because it reminded me so much of my active "pastor's wife" days, when I packed up the kids and handled them on my own at church. It felt a little strange -- even bittersweet -- to sit with Aidan, by myself, in the sanctuary until it was time for Kids' Church, when I was left alone for the second half. We zipped out of church a.s.a.p. (I was way too tired to hang around), had a quick lunch, got Grace down for her nap, climbed into bed with my boy, read a couple of classic Winnie the Pooh tales, and then had a great nap.
Later that afternoon I decided to take the kids to the park. Aidan absolutely loves ducks, and there's a nice pond loaded with the creatures, as well as a little waterfall, babbling brook, walking trail, etc. We had a lovely walk, following the brook for quite a way until it was time to head back. It was a beautiful day, with so much to see and so many great teaching opportunities ... how in one spot the brook was quite fast and rough over the rocks but then in a blink of an eye it was as smooth as glass; seeing a reflection in the water; how beautiful the colors of a flowering tree looks against the dark green leaves; watching the geese take off amidst loud squawks, huge wings beating and the water splashing behind them. We really had a lovely time.
But Aidan's primary interest was in finding some ducks. And sure enough, we found "Mama Duck" and a bunch of adorable ducklings, and Aidan was ecstatic. But then we witnessed something so amazing, something I had n
ever seen before. The little duck family was walking along the top of the wall, when suddenly Mama Duck flew down to the pool below. The little ducklings went into a tizzy, peeping up a storm (my kids were going crazy!), until Daddy Duck waddled over to them to stand closer. From her spot below, Mama Duck began quacking up at them, causing more of a ruckus from the babies. Finally Mama Duck flew back up, "said" something to them, and then flew back down. Sure enough, one wild-and-crazy little duckling broke from the other and slowly began to head down the wall! He went about a foot until gravity took hold and he tumbled all the way down, landing with an audible "thump." I was so afraid for that little guy -- what a horrible plunge! And one by one, each little ball of fuzz tumbled down the wall, thudding on the bottom. I thought for sure I'd witness a death, and then would have to explain it to Aidan (and getting extremely upset myself), but thankfully I was spared that ordeal, and the ducks were fine -- they fluffed themselves and peeped along after their mother.
It was wild. Now that's courage. That's determination. That's motherhood!
Later that afternoon I decided to take the kids to the park. Aidan absolutely loves ducks, and there's a nice pond loaded with the creatures, as well as a little waterfall, babbling brook, walking trail, etc. We had a lovely walk, following the brook for quite a way until it was time to head back. It was a beautiful day, with so much to see and so many great teaching opportunities ... how in one spot the brook was quite fast and rough over the rocks but then in a blink of an eye it was as smooth as glass; seeing a reflection in the water; how beautiful the colors of a flowering tree looks against the dark green leaves; watching the geese take off amidst loud squawks, huge wings beating and the water splashing behind them. We really had a lovely time.
But Aidan's primary interest was in finding some ducks. And sure enough, we found "Mama Duck" and a bunch of adorable ducklings, and Aidan was ecstatic. But then we witnessed something so amazing, something I had n
ever seen before. The little duck family was walking along the top of the wall, when suddenly Mama Duck flew down to the pool below. The little ducklings went into a tizzy, peeping up a storm (my kids were going crazy!), until Daddy Duck waddled over to them to stand closer. From her spot below, Mama Duck began quacking up at them, causing more of a ruckus from the babies. Finally Mama Duck flew back up, "said" something to them, and then flew back down. Sure enough, one wild-and-crazy little duckling broke from the other and slowly began to head down the wall! He went about a foot until gravity took hold and he tumbled all the way down, landing with an audible "thump." I was so afraid for that little guy -- what a horrible plunge! And one by one, each little ball of fuzz tumbled down the wall, thudding on the bottom. I thought for sure I'd witness a death, and then would have to explain it to Aidan (and getting extremely upset myself), but thankfully I was spared that ordeal, and the ducks were fine -- they fluffed themselves and peeped along after their mother.It was wild. Now that's courage. That's determination. That's motherhood!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
To Swing or Not to Swing
I'm taking a poll today, because I am simply a notoriously bad maker of decisions. We have an opportunity to receive a FREE swing set -- one of those wooden structures you see all over the place. It's FREE. I have two children who would love it, and it's FREE. What can I say ... I might have Irish blood, but I have a frugal Dutch heart!
Here are the pro's:
- It's FREE
- The kids will inevitably tire of what they have in the yard now, and a swing set might prove to be a great asset to their play (and a great asset to my needing them to play for longer periods so I can get things done)
- It's FREE
- I had one growing up and we loved it, used it for years
- It's relatively new and in great shape, and it's a smaller size -- not one of those monstrosities that cost thousands of dollars (yet still bigger than one of those metal ones you can get at Kmart)
Here are the con's:
- Here is our backyard:
It's not very big, and Don keeps saying that it's going to swallow up what yard we have (like it's OK for him to take up our entire living room with his audio equipment!!!). Like I said, though, we had one growing up and we kids never seemed to feel claustrophic.
- We have to break it down ourselves and haul it away by next weekend (basically do it all in one day, on Saturday)
- Grace isn't even 2 years old yet and the protective mother hen in me feels that this would be an accident waiting to happen, and would actually cause me to spend more time monitoring them rather than letting them play unattended (which I can do now, to some degree).
- I have no time to think about this. We need to let them know a.s.a.p.
So what do you think? Do we go ahead with it, because -- well, it's FREE?! Do the con's outweigh the pro's at this point? Do we pass up this FREE opportunity and re-visit this next year when Grace is older? I am absolutely torn on this decision. If this was you, what would you do?
Here are the pro's:
- It's FREE
- The kids will inevitably tire of what they have in the yard now, and a swing set might prove to be a great asset to their play (and a great asset to my needing them to play for longer periods so I can get things done)
- It's FREE
- I had one growing up and we loved it, used it for years
- It's relatively new and in great shape, and it's a smaller size -- not one of those monstrosities that cost thousands of dollars (yet still bigger than one of those metal ones you can get at Kmart)
Here are the con's:
- Here is our backyard:
It's not very big, and Don keeps saying that it's going to swallow up what yard we have (like it's OK for him to take up our entire living room with his audio equipment!!!). Like I said, though, we had one growing up and we kids never seemed to feel claustrophic.
- We have to break it down ourselves and haul it away by next weekend (basically do it all in one day, on Saturday)
- Grace isn't even 2 years old yet and the protective mother hen in me feels that this would be an accident waiting to happen, and would actually cause me to spend more time monitoring them rather than letting them play unattended (which I can do now, to some degree).
- I have no time to think about this. We need to let them know a.s.a.p.
So what do you think? Do we go ahead with it, because -- well, it's FREE?! Do the con's outweigh the pro's at this point? Do we pass up this FREE opportunity and re-visit this next year when Grace is older? I am absolutely torn on this decision. If this was you, what would you do?
Happy Mother's Day!
Mother's Day is such a funny "holiday." It's the one day a year people are supposed to recognize all the hard work that we do as mothers. One day?! Hmmm ... I won't go there. For me personally, Mother's Day -- focused outwardly -- is a really beautiful day. I first think of my mother, the woman who adopted me, the one whom I call "Mom," the woman who never thought of me as someone else's child, the woman who raised me and in so many ways shaped me into the woman I am today, the woman who holds a place in my heart that no one else ever will. My mom and I are two very, very different people -- where I am introverted, she is incredibly extroverted; while I love to entertain it does come at a cost to me, whereas my mother can pull off Thanksgiving dinner for 13 with ease; while I might be more easy-going with certain things, my mom can be quite set in her ways. We laugh like crazy, we love each other's company ... but we can also butt heads at times too. We are both very strong-willed individuals and that has been tested many, many times. I don't look upon my teenage years with great fondness -- in all honesty, that was the one time in our relationship, for a couple of years, that was just incredibly difficult. It's natural, but it wasn't pleasant. I'm glad now that I've grown out of it, she's grown more mellow ... all in all, my mom is certainly one of my best friends.
I think of my birthmother, too. Where is she on this day? Does she have her own children who give her cards and gifts? Does she even think about me? Heck, is she even alive? I have no idea. I've written about her before, and no matter what she's done in her life, I am thankful for her greatest "mistake," for if it wasn't for the great redemption of an error, I wouldn't be here, and I certainly wouldn't have the life that I have now.
I think of my grandmother, my mom's mother. I'll write about her again soon because she's been on my mind as of late. While she was alive, we had four generations going strong in our family, and I think about that strength of motherhood that has been passed down. My grandmother was a beautiful woman, a lovely spirit, but of course -- like all of us -- she had her down side. She had a tremendous amount of pride, and in the right context that's a good thing, but so often in her later years it didn't always come across in an appropriate way. She was stubborn -- oh was she stubborn! And quite passive-aggressive (kind of funny, coming from a woman in her late 80's). She had a close relationship with my mother, her eldest daughter, who in turn has a close relationship with me. Beautiful generations. I have a cherished photograph taken a year before my grandmother died, a picture of my grandmother sitting in her comfortable chair in her room at her assisted living residence, with my mom on one side, myself on another, as well as baby Aidan. He was a year and a half old when she died, and we took him to the funeral home for the viewing. We didn't have much choice, since the visiting hours were on a Sunday, and we were living in PA at the time. Don obviously had a service to do in the morning, and immediately afterward we jumped in the car and had to drive straight to the funeral home. At such a young age, Aidan was surprisingly silent, taking it all in -- the solemnity, the grief. He walked right up to the casket, saying, "There's grandma!" and jumped up onto the kneeler to get a better view. He was a bit perplexed seeing her lying there, and wanted to know why she was sleeping. Then in his beautiful childlike way he said, "Grandma, wake up! We're here!" I cry now just thinking about it. I miss the presence of that amazing woman, that amazing mother, in my life.
Then I think of myself, now a mother myself of two beautiful children and one little life that I lost. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got to this point, riddled with all of my fears and insecurities about being a "good mother." I was wracked with these feelings with Aidan's coming, but thankfully I've progressed a bit since then. I do feel more confident in myself as a mother, although I do have my days of doubt, as I'm sure we all do. But I have to laugh when I think of this day called "Mother's Day," realizing that out of all the days of the years, this day does the least in "honoring" me and my role. I will never, ever forget my first Mother's Day, a day I was rather looking forward to. I have to confess I was rather proud of my achievements -- I endured a great pregnancy (I'm one of those crazy people who actually liked being pregnant!), I gave birth naturally for 20 long hours, my baby at that date was 9 months old and an absolutely gorgeous little boy (although a horrible sleeper). I wanted to be lavished with tokens of appreciation from my husband, respecting me and honoring me for my new role as mother. I know, I know -- I totally set myself up. What did I get? A card and a Whitman's Sampler. I am so not kidding. I have to admit that I was stunned. Did I dare ask, "Where's the rest of it?" (I didn't.) I was so taken aback I didn't know how to react. Oh, and it gets much, much better. When Father's Day arrived the following month, my husband bought himself a leather jacket. Unbelievable!
I have forgiven him ... but clearly I haven't forgotten. :) So what's in store for me this Mother's Day? Nothing. My husband isn't even here. That's OK, though -- it's work-related. He's involved in a expo in NYC and has been working for the past four days straight. So I will be spending Mother's Day alone, with my kids ... it's been a long, long, few days. We'll go upstairs to my parents' house for tea in the afternoon, perhaps -- that's my celebration. I guess that's more true to motherhood than any ceremony or day of honoring, isn't it? So often putting yourself last, so often knowing that about 98% of what you do goes unnoticed, yet that 98% is so crucial to the development and nurture of your children. The day is what I choose to make it, and tomorrow -- Mother's Day -- I will stand up and affirm myself as a mother, and it will be a beautiful day, with my beautiful children.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you, my friends, who are mothers ... whether you have children of your own, whether your children are adopted, whether you do not have children but have been mothers in a very real way to others by your selfless giving and tremendous love. On this day acknowledge the beauty of your role and know that you are loved.
I think of my birthmother, too. Where is she on this day? Does she have her own children who give her cards and gifts? Does she even think about me? Heck, is she even alive? I have no idea. I've written about her before, and no matter what she's done in her life, I am thankful for her greatest "mistake," for if it wasn't for the great redemption of an error, I wouldn't be here, and I certainly wouldn't have the life that I have now.
I think of my grandmother, my mom's mother. I'll write about her again soon because she's been on my mind as of late. While she was alive, we had four generations going strong in our family, and I think about that strength of motherhood that has been passed down. My grandmother was a beautiful woman, a lovely spirit, but of course -- like all of us -- she had her down side. She had a tremendous amount of pride, and in the right context that's a good thing, but so often in her later years it didn't always come across in an appropriate way. She was stubborn -- oh was she stubborn! And quite passive-aggressive (kind of funny, coming from a woman in her late 80's). She had a close relationship with my mother, her eldest daughter, who in turn has a close relationship with me. Beautiful generations. I have a cherished photograph taken a year before my grandmother died, a picture of my grandmother sitting in her comfortable chair in her room at her assisted living residence, with my mom on one side, myself on another, as well as baby Aidan. He was a year and a half old when she died, and we took him to the funeral home for the viewing. We didn't have much choice, since the visiting hours were on a Sunday, and we were living in PA at the time. Don obviously had a service to do in the morning, and immediately afterward we jumped in the car and had to drive straight to the funeral home. At such a young age, Aidan was surprisingly silent, taking it all in -- the solemnity, the grief. He walked right up to the casket, saying, "There's grandma!" and jumped up onto the kneeler to get a better view. He was a bit perplexed seeing her lying there, and wanted to know why she was sleeping. Then in his beautiful childlike way he said, "Grandma, wake up! We're here!" I cry now just thinking about it. I miss the presence of that amazing woman, that amazing mother, in my life.
Then I think of myself, now a mother myself of two beautiful children and one little life that I lost. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got to this point, riddled with all of my fears and insecurities about being a "good mother." I was wracked with these feelings with Aidan's coming, but thankfully I've progressed a bit since then. I do feel more confident in myself as a mother, although I do have my days of doubt, as I'm sure we all do. But I have to laugh when I think of this day called "Mother's Day," realizing that out of all the days of the years, this day does the least in "honoring" me and my role. I will never, ever forget my first Mother's Day, a day I was rather looking forward to. I have to confess I was rather proud of my achievements -- I endured a great pregnancy (I'm one of those crazy people who actually liked being pregnant!), I gave birth naturally for 20 long hours, my baby at that date was 9 months old and an absolutely gorgeous little boy (although a horrible sleeper). I wanted to be lavished with tokens of appreciation from my husband, respecting me and honoring me for my new role as mother. I know, I know -- I totally set myself up. What did I get? A card and a Whitman's Sampler. I am so not kidding. I have to admit that I was stunned. Did I dare ask, "Where's the rest of it?" (I didn't.) I was so taken aback I didn't know how to react. Oh, and it gets much, much better. When Father's Day arrived the following month, my husband bought himself a leather jacket. Unbelievable!
I have forgiven him ... but clearly I haven't forgotten. :) So what's in store for me this Mother's Day? Nothing. My husband isn't even here. That's OK, though -- it's work-related. He's involved in a expo in NYC and has been working for the past four days straight. So I will be spending Mother's Day alone, with my kids ... it's been a long, long, few days. We'll go upstairs to my parents' house for tea in the afternoon, perhaps -- that's my celebration. I guess that's more true to motherhood than any ceremony or day of honoring, isn't it? So often putting yourself last, so often knowing that about 98% of what you do goes unnoticed, yet that 98% is so crucial to the development and nurture of your children. The day is what I choose to make it, and tomorrow -- Mother's Day -- I will stand up and affirm myself as a mother, and it will be a beautiful day, with my beautiful children.
My little treasures, who made me who I am today
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Laugh Lines for the week 2
- Every afternoon, after story time, Aidan and I take a nap together in my bed. He was a horrible sleeper as a baby, so this was the only way I could get him to take naps -- and the "habit" still continues (I'm not complaining!). We had a good, old-fashioned, major Sunday afternoon nap and this time he woke me up after two hours (!!!). He snuggled with me for a couple of minutes, and then changed position so he could lay his head on my stomach. He suddenly looked up and said, "Mommy! Your tummy is talking! It says you need some pie." Ummmm ... I don't think so. Pie is the last thing my tummy needs, but thanks for the thought! :)
- When asked if Aidan wanted a hamburger or a hot dog, he replied, "I'll take a hamburger ... but a regular one, without the ham."
- After going to the bathroom, Aidan came out into the kitchen laughing hysterically. "Look, Mommy! I have on two underpants!" Sure enough, under his jeans he had two pair of tighty-whities. Boy, did that look odd!
- Playing "soccer" in the backyard with Aidan, with one of those 12" multi-colored balls you get at the grocery store. I kicked it rather hard and it sailed through the air, smacking him right in the forehead. The look on his face was priceless.
- Lunchtime: the object, grape applesauce. The culprit: Aidan wracked with spontaneous, side-splitting, intense giggles for absolutely no reason, immediately followed by the spewing forth of said dessert over the kitchen table (followed by even more intense giggles).
- More clothing issues: Aidan got himself dressed, and midway through the morning I noticed that his shirt looked a little strange. I took a closer look, only to find that he forgot to take his pajama shirt off, which was still under his T-shirt. Someone hasn't been paying much attention to the process of dressing lately!
- Reading "Moo, Baa, LaLaLa" (Sandra Boynton) to Grace:
A cow says moo. A sheep says baa.
Three singing pig say LA LA LA.
"No, no," you say, "That isn't right.
The pigs say oink! all day and night."
Rhinoseroses snort and snuff and little dogs go ruff ruff ruff!
Some other dogs go bow wow wow! And cats and kittens say MEOW!
Quack! says the duck. A horse says neigh.
It's quiet now. What do you say?
Grace's reply: "Aaaaa-MEN!"
- When asked if Aidan wanted a hamburger or a hot dog, he replied, "I'll take a hamburger ... but a regular one, without the ham."
- After going to the bathroom, Aidan came out into the kitchen laughing hysterically. "Look, Mommy! I have on two underpants!" Sure enough, under his jeans he had two pair of tighty-whities. Boy, did that look odd!
- Playing "soccer" in the backyard with Aidan, with one of those 12" multi-colored balls you get at the grocery store. I kicked it rather hard and it sailed through the air, smacking him right in the forehead. The look on his face was priceless.
- Lunchtime: the object, grape applesauce. The culprit: Aidan wracked with spontaneous, side-splitting, intense giggles for absolutely no reason, immediately followed by the spewing forth of said dessert over the kitchen table (followed by even more intense giggles).
- More clothing issues: Aidan got himself dressed, and midway through the morning I noticed that his shirt looked a little strange. I took a closer look, only to find that he forgot to take his pajama shirt off, which was still under his T-shirt. Someone hasn't been paying much attention to the process of dressing lately!
- Reading "Moo, Baa, LaLaLa" (Sandra Boynton) to Grace:
A cow says moo. A sheep says baa.
Three singing pig say LA LA LA.
"No, no," you say, "That isn't right.
The pigs say oink! all day and night."
Rhinoseroses snort and snuff and little dogs go ruff ruff ruff!
Some other dogs go bow wow wow! And cats and kittens say MEOW!
Quack! says the duck. A horse says neigh.
It's quiet now. What do you say?
Grace's reply: "Aaaaa-MEN!"
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