It's been happening way too often lately. I roll out of bed in the morning and am hardly up 5 or 10 minutes before one or more of the kids is getting in trouble about something. It doesn't make for a good day for me or for them. And it makes me feel so incredibly weary. So this morning I was thinking about it.
There are so many things that contribute. My kids are kids, and boy kids at that. They're always into something, always up to things that aren't necessarily the best ideas. I try to give them some leeway and let them be kids, and still let them know that there are definite limits and boundaries that will be enforced. Besides the fact that they're kids, they're getting older, and starting to push their limits at times, which constantly requires one of two things: a reinforcement of the rules, or an honest assessment by one or both parents about whether things should be adapted as they grow. That's one of the hardest things for me to figure out sometimes, because Motherhood requires so much "on the job training".
One of the other things that has been a major contributing factor this summer has been my own emotional state. It seems like everything my kids do sets my nerves on edge, and I've been trying to be very careful about whether my irritation stems from something they're actually doing or just something going on in me. I've had ups and downs in life, like most folks, but I've never felt like I was fighting against depression until recently. Losing my Mom and dealing with all the things that come along with that has been incredibly hard. And when life seems hard, day after day, it's easy to be hard on yourself, and hard on other people. I told my husband the other day that my Mom had told me several times in the past that I was a good Mama. I was thankful she thought so at the time, but now in some ways I feel like I've lost my rudder ... like I've lost my understanding of HOW to be a Mom, because I don't have a Mom any more.
Which is what I was pondering this morning ... I found myself wondering what kind of mother I was. My mental conversation started with negatives. What kind of Mom am I when I feel like I'm constantly growling at my kids? What kind of Mom am I when it seems like it takes so much effort to do things with them, instead of wanting to bury my head in the sand and just not deal with the hassle? What kind of a Mom am I to be looking forward to the fact that they will all be going to school in less than a week, and I'll finally have a little time to myself?
The thoughts went through my mind, but they didn't stay there. If there is one thing that I have learned in the time that I've been a Mom, it's that you HAVE to be honest with yourself, even when there are problems. Maybe ESPECIALLY when there are problems. So, what kind of Mom am I?
I'm a Mom who cares. If it didn't matter to me what my kids were doing, I wouldn't find myself frustrated when they didn't do what they were told.
I'm a Mom who's involved. Feeling down makes me want to curl up and do nothing, or take a nap and just "get away from it all". But I've made it a point of doing things with my kids ... things they needed to do, or wanted to do, or just things I thought they would get a kick out of. We've been to the zoo, out riding on a train, hiking in the woods ... I've been trying to teach them to swim, how to cook, how to do laundry. Most of all, I've been trying to teach them to be kind to others and each other, and to be thankful for everything.
I'm a Mom who's real. I have good days and bad days. I have days when I'm tired and frustrated and days when I laugh and play. I'm a Mom who is doing her best to keep life on an even keel when it seems like my world has been turned upside down.
I'm not just a Mom who's fighting battles every day. I'm a Mom who's fighting a war for the hearts, minds, and souls of my children ... for their future. And though some days it makes me heart-sore and weary, I know it's what my Mom would want me to do. I sometimes see her in myself, and I try to see myself through her eyes. It's a way of holding her close to me, and finding my direction to help guide my sons. One small step in my search for peace.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Taking those chances
Being a Mom means you wear so many hats. You are nurse and chauffeur, referee and finder of lost things, budget master, master chef and so many other things. First and foremost, though, you are a teacher. You may not have a teacher's degree, or any sort of compensation (at least in the form of $), but you are a teacher nonetheless. You teach your children to eat, to walk, to talk, to play, to share, to potty, to read, to respect others, and an infinite number of things. Sometimes a Mom feels like she's doing a reasonable job of teaching, and
sometimes she doesn't, but it's an important job, and not one we can
neglect. Because sometimes you teach them without even knowing you're doing it ... no matter what you do, they're always watching.
One of the things that's always been at the top of my list to teach my children is a love and respect for God and his word. I want them to grow up to be happy and healthy and successful, but above all I want them to grow up to be the kind of men that are pleasing to God. And one of the best ways I have found to try and teach them these things is to make it a part of their everyday lives.
I don't mean that I just take them to church "when I'm supposed to", and be sure they have their Bible lessons done. Yes, we do that. But what I mean is that I work at trying to incorporate something Biblical into what we're doing whenever the opportunity presents itself.
For instance, today I have been trying to make homemade bread. I've attempted it a time or two before, but not had much luck. This is a new recipe, and a full-fledged "knead-it-for-10-minutes" type, at that. It's baking now, and I'm on pins and needles waiting to see how it turns out.
As I worked on the bread, my four-year-old was watching me knead the dough. Pushing and folding it ... over and over and over. And we talked. We talked about the bread I was making, and how yummy we hoped it would be. We talked about the different ingredients I was using, and what they were for. And we talked about yeast, or what the Bible calls "leaven". We talked about what it was and what it's job was, and we talked about making bread with and without leaven. And we talked about when the Bible talked about unleavened bread ... at the first Passover (he's studied the plagues in Egypt in the recent past), and how we have unleavened bread now, when we have the Lord's Supper. It was a simple conversation, and a fairly short one, but it put the information out there for him to think about. And he DOES think about it. Sometimes he will come up with questions that, for a four-year-old, absolutely amaze me.
And there is an added benefit to trying to inject these things into conversations with my children when I can. In order to keep the things of God in the front of their minds, it means I must also always have the things of God in the front of my own mind. Something we should always do, but something that sometimes gets lost in the shuffle of every day life for many adults. I strive to teach my children, and by extension, learn things myself ... and hopefully we will all be able to share in the same reward one day.
One of the things that's always been at the top of my list to teach my children is a love and respect for God and his word. I want them to grow up to be happy and healthy and successful, but above all I want them to grow up to be the kind of men that are pleasing to God. And one of the best ways I have found to try and teach them these things is to make it a part of their everyday lives.
I don't mean that I just take them to church "when I'm supposed to", and be sure they have their Bible lessons done. Yes, we do that. But what I mean is that I work at trying to incorporate something Biblical into what we're doing whenever the opportunity presents itself.
For instance, today I have been trying to make homemade bread. I've attempted it a time or two before, but not had much luck. This is a new recipe, and a full-fledged "knead-it-for-10-minutes" type, at that. It's baking now, and I'm on pins and needles waiting to see how it turns out.
As I worked on the bread, my four-year-old was watching me knead the dough. Pushing and folding it ... over and over and over. And we talked. We talked about the bread I was making, and how yummy we hoped it would be. We talked about the different ingredients I was using, and what they were for. And we talked about yeast, or what the Bible calls "leaven". We talked about what it was and what it's job was, and we talked about making bread with and without leaven. And we talked about when the Bible talked about unleavened bread ... at the first Passover (he's studied the plagues in Egypt in the recent past), and how we have unleavened bread now, when we have the Lord's Supper. It was a simple conversation, and a fairly short one, but it put the information out there for him to think about. And he DOES think about it. Sometimes he will come up with questions that, for a four-year-old, absolutely amaze me.
And there is an added benefit to trying to inject these things into conversations with my children when I can. In order to keep the things of God in the front of their minds, it means I must also always have the things of God in the front of my own mind. Something we should always do, but something that sometimes gets lost in the shuffle of every day life for many adults. I strive to teach my children, and by extension, learn things myself ... and hopefully we will all be able to share in the same reward one day.
Monday, January 13, 2014
I'm fine ... really!
Someone asked me out of politeness the other day, "How are you doing?" And of course, I said, "I'm fine, thanks."
Why do we do that?
I suppose a lot of that response is automatic, just like a lot of times the question is automatic. Unless we're talking to a good friend that we tend to confide in anyway, most people don't really want to know the minutae of our everyday existence ... whether we're up or down, angry, stressed, joyful, hurting, or whatever. In truth, they probably don't need to, anyway.
But I've learned, especially since becoming a mother, that "fine" is one of those relative terms. For instance, in any given week, I might say I'm fine when:
So, I AM fine ... really. :)
Why do we do that?
I suppose a lot of that response is automatic, just like a lot of times the question is automatic. Unless we're talking to a good friend that we tend to confide in anyway, most people don't really want to know the minutae of our everyday existence ... whether we're up or down, angry, stressed, joyful, hurting, or whatever. In truth, they probably don't need to, anyway.
But I've learned, especially since becoming a mother, that "fine" is one of those relative terms. For instance, in any given week, I might say I'm fine when:
- I'm stressed about how one of my sons is doing at school.
- I'm elated over some new genealogy find.
- I'm wondering if my youngest will ever remember to use the potty on his own.
- I'm thrilled that despite our one-income lifestyle, we're managing to pay off our debt.
- I'm missing my long-distance family.
- I'm trying to remember the umpteen million things I need to get done for five people.
- I'm wondering what's for dinner.
- I'm wishing someone ELSE would make ME dinner.
- I'm in the mood to go clothes shopping, but can't seem to make myself spend any money even when I get the opportunity to go.
- I'm totally loving my husband, who calls me beautiful no matter how frazzled I get, and loves me for who I am.
- I'm thinking I'd love for it to be spring, so I could get out in my garden and grow some yummy stuff to eat.
- One of the songs we just sang at church made me teary, because it reminded me of a lost loved one.
- My allergies are bothering me, and I really wish this headache would go away.
- I'm about to pull my hair out, because life with three little boys is all about NOISE.
- I'm feeling blessed, because I have three active, healthy little boys.
So, I AM fine ... really. :)
Monday, January 6, 2014
A prayer for peace
They'd been predicting this winter storm for days. Original forecasts suggested we might even have up to 10 inches of snow, although that was gradually shaved back to about 2 inches. One thing they kept saying, though, was it was going to be windy, and it was going to be COLD.
The storm arrived as scheduled ... right before my kids' bedtime. My kids are not real fond of going to bed during storms. It's not such a big deal in the daytime, but something about climbing into bed and trying to go to sleep during one is more of a challenge.
And so my middle son was in tears as he sat in his bed ... not wanting to lay down, not wanting the light turned off, not wanting much of anything. I was at a loss ... I couldn't change the storm, and he was being completely uncooperative. In fact, he was well on his way to working himself into a tizzy, so I went and sat on his bed (as best as I could since he sleeps on the bottom bunk!) and tried to talk to him.
I asked what was bothering him about the storm. He shrugged his shoulders, wiped his tear-streaked face, and said in a tiny voice that it was too noisy outside. So we talked about our house ... the fact that we had strong walls, and a (relatively) new roof, and a heater and blankets inside to help keep us warm. We talked about how he had a hanky for his nose, and a favorite stuffed animal to cuddle with and keep him company. I wasn't sure how else to comfort him ... I really wasn't. Finally, I suggested he try what I try when I'm stressed or worried.
"You know what else you could try?" I asked. He shook his head.
"You could try praying." I said. "You know, God takes care of us when things are bothering us. You could pray and tell him that the storm is bothering you, and you could tell him thank you for our strong house, and ask him to help you sleep well, and help you be brave until the storm is gone."
Finally ... finally ... he was beginning to calm down a little bit.
"Do you want to say a prayer with Mommy?" I asked.
"I just want to do it later." he whispered.
"Ok," I told him. "You lay down, and I'll tuck you in and turn the light off, and then you can say a prayer all by yourself ... alright?" He nodded.
When I went to bed I said a prayer for all of us ... for protection and a good night's rest, and for comfort for my children during the storm.
The wind raged and howled around the house most of the night, and sticks and gumballs off the neighbor's trees kept pelting the house all night, waking me up because I was expecting to need to comfort one or another of my children. I didn't sleep well, but I never heard any of my children make a sound, nor were there any small hands on my arm looking for comfort during the night.
This morning I put my arms around my boy, and whispered in his ear ... "Did you say a prayer last night?" He nodded. "Did it help?" I asked. He nodded again. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded a third time. "I'm so glad." and I gave him a hug and a kiss and let him return to his play.
And then I said another mini prayer of my own ... "Thank you, Lord, for bringing peace to my child." After all, after a night like that, what else does a Mommy really need?
The storm arrived as scheduled ... right before my kids' bedtime. My kids are not real fond of going to bed during storms. It's not such a big deal in the daytime, but something about climbing into bed and trying to go to sleep during one is more of a challenge.
And so my middle son was in tears as he sat in his bed ... not wanting to lay down, not wanting the light turned off, not wanting much of anything. I was at a loss ... I couldn't change the storm, and he was being completely uncooperative. In fact, he was well on his way to working himself into a tizzy, so I went and sat on his bed (as best as I could since he sleeps on the bottom bunk!) and tried to talk to him.
I asked what was bothering him about the storm. He shrugged his shoulders, wiped his tear-streaked face, and said in a tiny voice that it was too noisy outside. So we talked about our house ... the fact that we had strong walls, and a (relatively) new roof, and a heater and blankets inside to help keep us warm. We talked about how he had a hanky for his nose, and a favorite stuffed animal to cuddle with and keep him company. I wasn't sure how else to comfort him ... I really wasn't. Finally, I suggested he try what I try when I'm stressed or worried.
"You know what else you could try?" I asked. He shook his head.
"You could try praying." I said. "You know, God takes care of us when things are bothering us. You could pray and tell him that the storm is bothering you, and you could tell him thank you for our strong house, and ask him to help you sleep well, and help you be brave until the storm is gone."
Finally ... finally ... he was beginning to calm down a little bit.
"Do you want to say a prayer with Mommy?" I asked.
"I just want to do it later." he whispered.
"Ok," I told him. "You lay down, and I'll tuck you in and turn the light off, and then you can say a prayer all by yourself ... alright?" He nodded.
When I went to bed I said a prayer for all of us ... for protection and a good night's rest, and for comfort for my children during the storm.
The wind raged and howled around the house most of the night, and sticks and gumballs off the neighbor's trees kept pelting the house all night, waking me up because I was expecting to need to comfort one or another of my children. I didn't sleep well, but I never heard any of my children make a sound, nor were there any small hands on my arm looking for comfort during the night.
This morning I put my arms around my boy, and whispered in his ear ... "Did you say a prayer last night?" He nodded. "Did it help?" I asked. He nodded again. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded a third time. "I'm so glad." and I gave him a hug and a kiss and let him return to his play.
And then I said another mini prayer of my own ... "Thank you, Lord, for bringing peace to my child." After all, after a night like that, what else does a Mommy really need?
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Difficult days with difficult children
All Moms have them. At least, I'm pretty sure they do, although I can only really vouch for my own. Days when it seems like nothing goes right. Days when it's all you can do not to wish you could lock someone in a soundproof box until they turn 40, or something along those lines. Days when you want to flop down in the middle of the floor and have a tantrum of your own. Days when it seems like you might as well just stop talking, because no one is listening to you anyway.
Thing is, when I feel that way, I'm especially thankful for people like my grandfather Glenn, who left us in 2003. He was always a man of strength and character. A man who seemed to have infinite wisdom and patience, at least to the eyes of a child. He was and is a man I have loved and respected for as long as I can remember, and a man who was determined to follow God. That is why the difficult days make me thankful for him, when I have an opportunity to stop and think about it.
It's not because I feel like I have any particular strength in either wisdom or patience. They are things I work to try and improve, and sometimes that has to be on a daily basis. I don't always feel strong, either, although I work hard to convey strength to those around me when they are needing it. (Isn't it funny how it works that way?)
The main reason I am thankful for folks like Grandpa is because of the faith that they instilled in me from a young age.
It is second nature to me to sing, and I do it all the time. Very often, I'm singing hymns, which brightens my day and encourages me. It rubs off on my children, who make up their own songs, just as I have made up songs for them. (Ask them to sing you the Bellybutton song sometime!) But it also makes me smile when I start singing or humming some hymn, and they recognize it. Occasionally, they'll even sing along, or ask me questions about it.
The other thing that is almost second nature to me at this stage of my life is prayer. Which is probably because I've found that on the days when I want to quit talking because none of my children are listening anyway, that sometimes it helps to change who I am talking to. I know that HE will listen, and even if I don't get a immediate or direct response, sometimes it helps me to calm down and refocus my energies. It helps to give me the strength and the courage I need to face the days that seem like one endless battle after another.
It reminds me of lessons learned from my Grandpa, who always told his children (who in turn told their children) to "remember what you are." I am a mother, a nurse, a referee, a chauffeur, a teacher, a budget analyst and more. But on those days when I struggle, when it's all I can do not to feel like I'm about to burst into tears of my own, I remember that I am also a child ... the child of a Father who loves me, and will give me all the help and support I could ever need. It allows me to pick myself up and to try again, even when I don't know how I'm going to accomplish it. I learned that lesson well from people like Grandpa ... and I am forever thankful.
Thing is, when I feel that way, I'm especially thankful for people like my grandfather Glenn, who left us in 2003. He was always a man of strength and character. A man who seemed to have infinite wisdom and patience, at least to the eyes of a child. He was and is a man I have loved and respected for as long as I can remember, and a man who was determined to follow God. That is why the difficult days make me thankful for him, when I have an opportunity to stop and think about it.
It's not because I feel like I have any particular strength in either wisdom or patience. They are things I work to try and improve, and sometimes that has to be on a daily basis. I don't always feel strong, either, although I work hard to convey strength to those around me when they are needing it. (Isn't it funny how it works that way?)
The main reason I am thankful for folks like Grandpa is because of the faith that they instilled in me from a young age.
It is second nature to me to sing, and I do it all the time. Very often, I'm singing hymns, which brightens my day and encourages me. It rubs off on my children, who make up their own songs, just as I have made up songs for them. (Ask them to sing you the Bellybutton song sometime!) But it also makes me smile when I start singing or humming some hymn, and they recognize it. Occasionally, they'll even sing along, or ask me questions about it.
The other thing that is almost second nature to me at this stage of my life is prayer. Which is probably because I've found that on the days when I want to quit talking because none of my children are listening anyway, that sometimes it helps to change who I am talking to. I know that HE will listen, and even if I don't get a immediate or direct response, sometimes it helps me to calm down and refocus my energies. It helps to give me the strength and the courage I need to face the days that seem like one endless battle after another.
It reminds me of lessons learned from my Grandpa, who always told his children (who in turn told their children) to "remember what you are." I am a mother, a nurse, a referee, a chauffeur, a teacher, a budget analyst and more. But on those days when I struggle, when it's all I can do not to feel like I'm about to burst into tears of my own, I remember that I am also a child ... the child of a Father who loves me, and will give me all the help and support I could ever need. It allows me to pick myself up and to try again, even when I don't know how I'm going to accomplish it. I learned that lesson well from people like Grandpa ... and I am forever thankful.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Motherhood, or, When Sleep Became a Dream
Maybe I should have expected it. Maybe I just wasn't familiar enough with it to know better.
I knew that when I had a new baby in the house, I wasn't going to be getting a whole lot of sleep. What with diaper changes and feedings every two hours, and a little one uncomfortable because it is in unfamiliar territory, it's just to be expected, right? But after all, it'll get better. They'll start sleeping through the night, and then ... and then ...
Well, ok, maybe I didn't think beyond the "and then."
I used to think my Mother was really odd. Seemed like she'd come home at the end of the day, have dinner, sit down in a chair, and be completely ready to go to bed by about 8 pm. I mean, hey, 8 pm?? What, was she nuts?
More and more I'm discovering that getting my kiddos sleeping through the night does not mean I'm always able to sleep. Seems like there's always something. This one's got a cough. That one's got a tummy ache. The other one wants a drink. Someone is banging the bathroom door in the middle of the night making a mid-night bathroom trip ... which one is it, and do I need to shoo them back to bed in a minute or two because they've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor after they got done? I don't sleep soundly now ... my ears are tuned to unexpected sounds that wake me up abruptly, and then once I finally identify them it takes me a few minutes to go back to sleep.
Anything and everything is a deterrent to Moms sleeping, believe it or not. There are always too many things to do during the day, which means some of it invariably gets pushed back until after the kids go to bed and there a fewer distractions. It also means staying up later than you might prefer. Then, once you actually manage to climb in the bed, you still can't actually go to sleep, because you're rehashing problems of the day and possible solutions for tomorrow. Plan of attack for tomorrow ... cleaning, laundry, homework, peace negotiations, den meetings, grocery shopping, where did I last see things that weren't put away, what am I gonna make for dinner?
Then you fall asleep, but you're not exactly sleeping, since all your dreams are about chasing things or running from things, or trying to find lost things, and never having a minute to sit down. Strangely enough, it sounds a lot like being awake. So am I sleeping or am I not sleeping?
Which means I now have a better understanding of my Mom. By the time dinner is over I'm just ready to go to bed. I don't know that I'll actually be sleeping, but one can always dream.
I knew that when I had a new baby in the house, I wasn't going to be getting a whole lot of sleep. What with diaper changes and feedings every two hours, and a little one uncomfortable because it is in unfamiliar territory, it's just to be expected, right? But after all, it'll get better. They'll start sleeping through the night, and then ... and then ...
Well, ok, maybe I didn't think beyond the "and then."
I used to think my Mother was really odd. Seemed like she'd come home at the end of the day, have dinner, sit down in a chair, and be completely ready to go to bed by about 8 pm. I mean, hey, 8 pm?? What, was she nuts?
More and more I'm discovering that getting my kiddos sleeping through the night does not mean I'm always able to sleep. Seems like there's always something. This one's got a cough. That one's got a tummy ache. The other one wants a drink. Someone is banging the bathroom door in the middle of the night making a mid-night bathroom trip ... which one is it, and do I need to shoo them back to bed in a minute or two because they've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor after they got done? I don't sleep soundly now ... my ears are tuned to unexpected sounds that wake me up abruptly, and then once I finally identify them it takes me a few minutes to go back to sleep.
Anything and everything is a deterrent to Moms sleeping, believe it or not. There are always too many things to do during the day, which means some of it invariably gets pushed back until after the kids go to bed and there a fewer distractions. It also means staying up later than you might prefer. Then, once you actually manage to climb in the bed, you still can't actually go to sleep, because you're rehashing problems of the day and possible solutions for tomorrow. Plan of attack for tomorrow ... cleaning, laundry, homework, peace negotiations, den meetings, grocery shopping, where did I last see things that weren't put away, what am I gonna make for dinner?
Then you fall asleep, but you're not exactly sleeping, since all your dreams are about chasing things or running from things, or trying to find lost things, and never having a minute to sit down. Strangely enough, it sounds a lot like being awake. So am I sleeping or am I not sleeping?
Which means I now have a better understanding of my Mom. By the time dinner is over I'm just ready to go to bed. I don't know that I'll actually be sleeping, but one can always dream.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Raising children and growing a parent
I've always been the quiet type. Mostly introverted, I think I went through most of my high school years with my nose in a book. I've grown and learned a lot in the intervening years, and now I can carry on a conversation with nearly anyone without thinking twice about it. In some ways, though, I am much the same person ... I like doing things I can work on mostly on my own, and helping out in ways that involve little to no fanfare. It's part of the reason I love research, and writing ... because I can do things I enjoy, but I do them mostly on my own. I occasionally teach a children's Bible class at church, but I'm not really comfortable doing it, because I'm not one who likes to be out in front of people ... I'd rather do my helping and encouraging of other people by listening when they need it, or cooking a meal to help out.
So what has this got to do with parenting? Well, a lot, actually.
Yes, I grew and matured in the years after I left school, but in all the ways that really mattered I was mostly the same person I had always been ... until I had children. Suddenly, I was in a world that I had no experience with. I couldn't even fall back on things like baby sitting, since I'd only ever done that job once. Somehow watching an 8-month-old for two or three hours (most of which time he was sleeping) hardly prepared me for keeping track of a family. And then almost nine years ago I brought my first child home from the hospital. Here I was, a mother ... the job I'd always wanted, and yet it was a nerve-wracking crash course in "Ack! What do I do now?" Sometimes it felt more like a demolition derby than a job well done. Sometimes it still does.
I have a one page article from a local magazine hanging on my refrigerator. It's been there for years, and once in a while I try to go back to it to remind myself of what this is all about. It is called "The Butterfly Effect", and the basic crux of the article is learning to change your life from something you don't like to something you do ... one thing at a time. You find some aspect of your life that you are unsatisfied with, and then you go about changing it to what you want it to be ... a little at a time, like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly. When you've accomplished that goal, you go on to the next thing, until your life becomes more of what you want it to be.
It's a lesson I'm continually learning as a parent. We learn a lot of things as we are growing up and attending school, but parenting is not one of them. Our children don't come with instruction books, and each child is different, so sometimes what applies to one doesn't apply to another. We can learn from our own parents (if we are fortunate), but those lessons have to be tempered by our own lives, situations, and priorities. We are trying hard to raise our children, but at the same time we are being required to grow as a parent.
Sometimes these lessons come from family, sometimes they come from something we read or hear, sometimes they just come from the experience of day to day life with our own family. I remember thinking several years ago that I felt like all I ever did was spend my days being angry and frustrated and yelling at my kids for their actions. That's not how I wanted to be remembered by my children when they were grown. So, I started an internal campaign to change things. It was a long, hard fight for me, but things have changed a lot. There are still times when I yell at my children, but they are much fewer and farther between now ... because of this, they are happier and so am I. I am much more relaxed as a parent with my third child than I ever was with my first, and I hope that carries over into how I care for all the members of my family now, each and every day.
Because of my family's medical history, I know it is possible that one day, perhaps long before I am ready, I may begin to lose my abilities to remember things, even the people I love most. But whether that happens or whether it doesn't, I am determined that I will grow as a parent ... I will do my best to become that beautiful butterfly my children will remember fondly. And with God's help, while I am growing I will be able to teach my own children these lessons, so that they can form beautiful wings of their own.
So what has this got to do with parenting? Well, a lot, actually.
Yes, I grew and matured in the years after I left school, but in all the ways that really mattered I was mostly the same person I had always been ... until I had children. Suddenly, I was in a world that I had no experience with. I couldn't even fall back on things like baby sitting, since I'd only ever done that job once. Somehow watching an 8-month-old for two or three hours (most of which time he was sleeping) hardly prepared me for keeping track of a family. And then almost nine years ago I brought my first child home from the hospital. Here I was, a mother ... the job I'd always wanted, and yet it was a nerve-wracking crash course in "Ack! What do I do now?" Sometimes it felt more like a demolition derby than a job well done. Sometimes it still does.
I have a one page article from a local magazine hanging on my refrigerator. It's been there for years, and once in a while I try to go back to it to remind myself of what this is all about. It is called "The Butterfly Effect", and the basic crux of the article is learning to change your life from something you don't like to something you do ... one thing at a time. You find some aspect of your life that you are unsatisfied with, and then you go about changing it to what you want it to be ... a little at a time, like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly. When you've accomplished that goal, you go on to the next thing, until your life becomes more of what you want it to be.
It's a lesson I'm continually learning as a parent. We learn a lot of things as we are growing up and attending school, but parenting is not one of them. Our children don't come with instruction books, and each child is different, so sometimes what applies to one doesn't apply to another. We can learn from our own parents (if we are fortunate), but those lessons have to be tempered by our own lives, situations, and priorities. We are trying hard to raise our children, but at the same time we are being required to grow as a parent.
Sometimes these lessons come from family, sometimes they come from something we read or hear, sometimes they just come from the experience of day to day life with our own family. I remember thinking several years ago that I felt like all I ever did was spend my days being angry and frustrated and yelling at my kids for their actions. That's not how I wanted to be remembered by my children when they were grown. So, I started an internal campaign to change things. It was a long, hard fight for me, but things have changed a lot. There are still times when I yell at my children, but they are much fewer and farther between now ... because of this, they are happier and so am I. I am much more relaxed as a parent with my third child than I ever was with my first, and I hope that carries over into how I care for all the members of my family now, each and every day.
Because of my family's medical history, I know it is possible that one day, perhaps long before I am ready, I may begin to lose my abilities to remember things, even the people I love most. But whether that happens or whether it doesn't, I am determined that I will grow as a parent ... I will do my best to become that beautiful butterfly my children will remember fondly. And with God's help, while I am growing I will be able to teach my own children these lessons, so that they can form beautiful wings of their own.
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