I can't imagine where the last 13 days have gone! Yes, it has been 13 days since I last wrote and I cannot believe I've stayed away that long! There are days when I really look forward to sitting down at night to write this. Sometimes I write and re-write, in my head, what I want to share as I go about my day. But I honestly cannot even tell you what I've been doing the last 13 days that have kept me from this blog! My computer was in the "hospital" for a 4 day weekend, so that makes a big difference. Other than life as a wife, mom, social worker, marriage and family counselor, and newly recruited Avon Representative, I haven't had anything "new" to keep me from writing.
Well here I am, and the good news is all of my boys are in their respective cribs/beds tonight for the first time since we brought the twin babies home from the hospital in March! There are no babies sleeping in my room tonight! Yeah! I am hoping that I will get a solid night's sleep. Of course my super-sonic mom hearing will be in effect and I will just have to deal with that, but it's different having them in another room...good different.
And so, with the wee ones tucked in their beds and my husband sleeping peacefully beside me I bid you "good-night" and look forward to a few more moments to share with you, at the dawn of a new day!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Self-Care and other Lofty Goals
I woke up with a sore throat and a pressure headache-'tis the season for sinus trouble! It has been a crazy week with working both of my jobs, preparing for Bobby's birthday party (which was Saturday) and trying to take advantage of the beautiful weather before it's gone! My boys would be outside every day for hours if they could. They are so relaxed and content when we go on walks or just sit outside under the big shade tree in our front yard. They love it. So, I've made every effort to get them out in it. Of course, it works for me too because I love the sunshine.
Well, this morning I did not let a little sinus pressure keep me down. We took our baby boys for their 6-month check-up complete with shots (I didn't cry this time) then came home. After that "trauma" the babies and I laid down to try and nap but with their sore little legs, their sore gums because they are both teething, and Bobby's refusal to take a decent nap (day 4 and counting) I did not sleep. I felt worse after TRYING to nap than I had before the attempt. Ah-well.
The only thing to do at this point was to go for a ride. We, Pete and I, decided to try and make the most of the outing so he would be doing some school work while we walked. We would be walking to and from different stores where I needed to return some things as well as pick some things up for the kids.
As I was working to get all the boys fed and ready to head out for our ride I realized it was around 2pm and I hadn't eaten since 8am! In all the hustle and bustle I forgot myself. This is not an uncommon occurrence, I must admit. My boys are typically cleaner, fuller and more well-rested than I am. I also understand that that is the way it is as a parent, a good parent anyway, that your children's needs come first. I believe it to be true and have been known to say that one cannot be selfish and be a good spouse or parent. Though I am not perfect and am at times selfish, I can err on the opposite end of that spectrum as well. In other words, it is just as important to practice self-care as it is self-denial.
I ate before we left. And I made sure I ate dinner when we returned, only after the boys had been fed and put to bed. As I sit here reflecting on this day and the past week or two I realize that I have really put myself and my self-care projects on the back burner. Things have just gotten so busy (but aren't we always busy?) that I haven't been remembering to exercise or read. In the last week I have maybe read 5 pages. Reading was something I just remarked on in a previous post, about how much I am enjoying it, and here I am neglecting it.
I know that it will be important as my boys grow to model for them a well-balanced life and I have some work to do before I can display that. Today, I find myself having to take another look at my life and to do the work of reorganizing time and priorities. Another important step for me in this is to bring it to you, to remain accountable for doing what I say I will do.
While I would continue to write this blog whether you were reading it or not, it is certainly meaningful to me to share milestones and memories, my inconsistancies and insights with you. You, my witness and unspoken partner in this wonderful blooming process.
I am ready to end my day, dealing with the same pressure headache and sore throat I woke up with, but with a deep sense of calm and resolve that I did not have this morning.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Home-made
I'm thinking a lot about my baby brother today. Jeannine, if you're reading this, God bless you for what you're going through right now. He is out of the country training with the military and will be gone for a month. I called him the day before he left and was choked up. I haven't seen him in months and months and was saying goodbye to him over the phone. It didn't seem right. I wanted a hug, a face-to-face conversation. I missed him more at that moment than I maybe ever have.
I'm finding it more and more difficult as we add to our family and as our children grow, to be away from family. It pulls at my heart in a way that I cannot explain. I know that Pete and the boys are my family and my first priority. However, the way I grew up aunts, uncles and cousins were close by to celebrate birthdays, spend weekends with, share meals and make it to events like summer soccer games or music recitals. In the world I grew up in family was a large number of people that were closely related to you by blood, birth or legal adoption. In the world I currently live in, family is something that you create, not something you are born into. We have added to our family not only through the birth of our children but by way of a dog named Molly, and a friend who is honorary "Aunt" to our children and who lives up to the title by taking such good care of them.
These dear additions have not replaced the family geographically distant, but have been added to it.
In the world I grew up in church was an extension of the family as well. As a child it was hard to get away with anything because you would get in trouble with anyone's parents, not just your own! I would like that kind of support and stability for my children too. It was a community that cared for one another and helped to not only meet physical needs but to share, teach and love. I appreciate the stability of the world I grew up in. Even though the "world" beyond my hometown was tumultuous, I was held steady by the strength of those around me.
I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking my childhood/formative years were idyllic or free of any trouble. My 9th year of life was provided with a crash course in complicated grief and dealing with the death of a loved one. The years brought sickness, car accidents, friends moving away and other things that proved difficult to live through and endure. However, with family (+the extended family) surrounding me, even the difficult times seemed to be more manageable.
I know that God provides. I've seen it in my life many times. So as I sit here contemplating the family I have scattered about the United States (and the world) tonight, I am thankful for a God who knows what is weighing on my heart. He is with that baby brother of mine when I cannot be (and always is). He knows my needs before I speak them and understands how to respond better than I know how to ask. He is the Builder of my family and the Maker of my home.
I'm finding it more and more difficult as we add to our family and as our children grow, to be away from family. It pulls at my heart in a way that I cannot explain. I know that Pete and the boys are my family and my first priority. However, the way I grew up aunts, uncles and cousins were close by to celebrate birthdays, spend weekends with, share meals and make it to events like summer soccer games or music recitals. In the world I grew up in family was a large number of people that were closely related to you by blood, birth or legal adoption. In the world I currently live in, family is something that you create, not something you are born into. We have added to our family not only through the birth of our children but by way of a dog named Molly, and a friend who is honorary "Aunt" to our children and who lives up to the title by taking such good care of them.
These dear additions have not replaced the family geographically distant, but have been added to it.
In the world I grew up in church was an extension of the family as well. As a child it was hard to get away with anything because you would get in trouble with anyone's parents, not just your own! I would like that kind of support and stability for my children too. It was a community that cared for one another and helped to not only meet physical needs but to share, teach and love. I appreciate the stability of the world I grew up in. Even though the "world" beyond my hometown was tumultuous, I was held steady by the strength of those around me.
I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking my childhood/formative years were idyllic or free of any trouble. My 9th year of life was provided with a crash course in complicated grief and dealing with the death of a loved one. The years brought sickness, car accidents, friends moving away and other things that proved difficult to live through and endure. However, with family (+the extended family) surrounding me, even the difficult times seemed to be more manageable.
I know that God provides. I've seen it in my life many times. So as I sit here contemplating the family I have scattered about the United States (and the world) tonight, I am thankful for a God who knows what is weighing on my heart. He is with that baby brother of mine when I cannot be (and always is). He knows my needs before I speak them and understands how to respond better than I know how to ask. He is the Builder of my family and the Maker of my home.
The Power of Words
We had the pleasure of hosting my parents for a quick few days after they spent some time with their newest grandchild, the beautiful Lillian, in New Jersey. It is always nice to catch up, share time with them and just to see them enjoy their grandchildren.
Of course the children are our main topic of conversation. I filled my mom in on all of the amazing things our two-year old (he'll be two on Friday!) can say and do; shared our attempts at beginning potty training (initiated by Bobby himself) and the trials of tummy time for the six-month old twins (they aren't often fond of it).
In the course of this conversation we landed on the topic of dealing with the tantrums that are common with the "trying two's". I expressed that I am trying to remain calm and patient in the midst of all the challenges of parenting a child through the trying twos. In the midst of my frustration I do not want to use words that would discourage, belittle or attempt to guilt my little one. I've written before about my commitment to choosing life-giving words that would inspire and encourage. (I'm not perfect at this, trust me).
As I reflected on this conversation throughout this past week a memory came to my mind and the thought of it just created a knot in my stomach. It is a perfect illustration of the power of words.
When I was living in Michigan with my parents years ago, I did a lot of babysitting. One of the families I babysat for was a combined family of two previously married individuals. Each had children from previous marriages and they had just added a daughter to the family from their union. This wife liked to talk. She talked with me a lot before and after the time I was there to watch the children. She would talk with me as if we were friends or peers even though we were neither.
When I first started working with this family I would drive up to the house and think, 'what a beautiful house'. It was a two story house, not too big, not too small, on a quiet street not far from the water. I thought it was ideal, the location, the wooden porch, the sweet shutters on the windows. Just so homey.
The husband was a quiet man. I thought he was handsome and kind. He seemed to love his wife, and even like her-wanting to be around her, telling her how beautiful/smart/fun she was and listening to what she wanted to do for their nights-out together.
The kids were sweet overall, though they presented their own challenges, especially with parental-imposed rules that excluded sweets from the evening menu and television from the entertainment. We stayed busy with games, reading and even playing some musical instruments.
Without fail, after each visit, the wife would come in and talk to me at length. It didn't take me long to notice the negative direction of our conversation. Not only that, but most of the negativity was directed at her husband. It did not matter if he was out of the house, in the next room or sitting right in front of us, she had a critical remark for him. She complained about his memory (or lack-thereof as she perceived it); she complained about how he did the dishes, or if he didn't do them; she commented on his appearance and what he chose to wear on their nights out; she frowned at his attempts to flatter her, and rolled her eyes when he shared an idea.
As I contemplated these memories I realized that over the course of time I too had begun to find fault with this man. He was too short. His "sweetness" was kind of annoying. His tennis shoes made him seem older than he was. Eventually, I became more annoyed with the children and the wife herself as well. Soon, I dreaded driving down that bumpy road to that old house with the cracked shutters and wooden porch in desperate need of staining.
In retrospect it seems to me that all of the wife's griping, belittling and complaining about her husband made him seem small and unattractive; it made the environment and actual house uninviting at best. It is no wonder that just a year or two after I stopped working with them this couple split and divorced. How tragic, really. Do I think that it was the power of her words that caused the marriage to break apart? Not singularly, but I do believe it had a profound effect on the health of that marriage.
It still causes me to have a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about sitting with her in the kitchen as she looked down her nose at him and uttered a belittling remark, and to remember the defeated look on his face...
I've said before that I had determined NOT to be the wife who complained about her husband to others and I want to add that I also try not to be the wife that complains to and/or at her husband as well. If I have a concern or frustration (with him or otherwise) I try to present it in the least offensive way. I don't want him to feel he has to defend himself against me from the word go. Conversation is productive. Complaining doesn't accomplish anything.
With her words I believe a wife can encourage her husband to be the best he can be. I hope that Pete would say that my support encourages him to be a better man. Do I always agree with him or feel inspired to be that supportive person? No, but that's what love does: it builds up, it speaks life.
So, I will endeavor to love my husband well with conversation, praising his strengths, encouraging him in those areas where he struggles and choosing respectful words.
Do you complain to your spouse? How could criticism be turned into productive conversation?
Of course the children are our main topic of conversation. I filled my mom in on all of the amazing things our two-year old (he'll be two on Friday!) can say and do; shared our attempts at beginning potty training (initiated by Bobby himself) and the trials of tummy time for the six-month old twins (they aren't often fond of it).
In the course of this conversation we landed on the topic of dealing with the tantrums that are common with the "trying two's". I expressed that I am trying to remain calm and patient in the midst of all the challenges of parenting a child through the trying twos. In the midst of my frustration I do not want to use words that would discourage, belittle or attempt to guilt my little one. I've written before about my commitment to choosing life-giving words that would inspire and encourage. (I'm not perfect at this, trust me).
As I reflected on this conversation throughout this past week a memory came to my mind and the thought of it just created a knot in my stomach. It is a perfect illustration of the power of words.
When I was living in Michigan with my parents years ago, I did a lot of babysitting. One of the families I babysat for was a combined family of two previously married individuals. Each had children from previous marriages and they had just added a daughter to the family from their union. This wife liked to talk. She talked with me a lot before and after the time I was there to watch the children. She would talk with me as if we were friends or peers even though we were neither.
When I first started working with this family I would drive up to the house and think, 'what a beautiful house'. It was a two story house, not too big, not too small, on a quiet street not far from the water. I thought it was ideal, the location, the wooden porch, the sweet shutters on the windows. Just so homey.
The husband was a quiet man. I thought he was handsome and kind. He seemed to love his wife, and even like her-wanting to be around her, telling her how beautiful/smart/fun she was and listening to what she wanted to do for their nights-out together.
The kids were sweet overall, though they presented their own challenges, especially with parental-imposed rules that excluded sweets from the evening menu and television from the entertainment. We stayed busy with games, reading and even playing some musical instruments.
Without fail, after each visit, the wife would come in and talk to me at length. It didn't take me long to notice the negative direction of our conversation. Not only that, but most of the negativity was directed at her husband. It did not matter if he was out of the house, in the next room or sitting right in front of us, she had a critical remark for him. She complained about his memory (or lack-thereof as she perceived it); she complained about how he did the dishes, or if he didn't do them; she commented on his appearance and what he chose to wear on their nights out; she frowned at his attempts to flatter her, and rolled her eyes when he shared an idea.
As I contemplated these memories I realized that over the course of time I too had begun to find fault with this man. He was too short. His "sweetness" was kind of annoying. His tennis shoes made him seem older than he was. Eventually, I became more annoyed with the children and the wife herself as well. Soon, I dreaded driving down that bumpy road to that old house with the cracked shutters and wooden porch in desperate need of staining.
In retrospect it seems to me that all of the wife's griping, belittling and complaining about her husband made him seem small and unattractive; it made the environment and actual house uninviting at best. It is no wonder that just a year or two after I stopped working with them this couple split and divorced. How tragic, really. Do I think that it was the power of her words that caused the marriage to break apart? Not singularly, but I do believe it had a profound effect on the health of that marriage.
It still causes me to have a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about sitting with her in the kitchen as she looked down her nose at him and uttered a belittling remark, and to remember the defeated look on his face...
I've said before that I had determined NOT to be the wife who complained about her husband to others and I want to add that I also try not to be the wife that complains to and/or at her husband as well. If I have a concern or frustration (with him or otherwise) I try to present it in the least offensive way. I don't want him to feel he has to defend himself against me from the word go. Conversation is productive. Complaining doesn't accomplish anything.
With her words I believe a wife can encourage her husband to be the best he can be. I hope that Pete would say that my support encourages him to be a better man. Do I always agree with him or feel inspired to be that supportive person? No, but that's what love does: it builds up, it speaks life.
So, I will endeavor to love my husband well with conversation, praising his strengths, encouraging him in those areas where he struggles and choosing respectful words.
Do you complain to your spouse? How could criticism be turned into productive conversation?
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