I'll be out in a minute... (Day Five)

but for right now, I've got nothing to say.

Day Two

Words for Day Two...

Ego. Mine.
Chaos.
Tears. His.
Early Nap.
Regroup. Me.
Dry afternoon.

A new day comes tomorrow.

Potty Party--Day One

Today by the numbers...

10-times he told me, "I can do it by myself. Don't you help me."
9-times the toilet was flushed for no good reason.
8-stickers that went on to the Party Potty poster.
7-times he asked to change underwear--"Just because I want to wear the..." firetrucks, puppies, train ones, etc.
6-wet underwear changes.
5-photos we took of him in big boy underwear.
4-cups of juice I plied him with.
3-hours he slept at nap time. (apparently this is stressful and tiring...for us both.)
2-puddles of pee I stepped in, not knowing they were there.
1-long day.

Random

Big boy is trying to figure out where Threesday goes in the week. (Monday, TWOsday, etc...)

He also learned today the God made sun, trees, and the rain. When I asked him what else God made, and prompted, "Animals?"

"Nooooo...silly Mom. God didn't make horses, the other god did."

He went on to explain that one God made cows, the other one made horses and the other-other one made chickens.

Proving that theology, too, is a work in progress.

Benefits of Keeping it Special

"What we doing today, Mom?"
"Cleaning."
"What can I clean?"
"You can dust the shelves and the bench."
With absolute glee and a little jump..."Ok, Mom!!"

We both go to work dusting. He takes things off the shelves and dusts, then carefully returns them. He gets out a broom to help sweep. He runs frantically to his room when the vacuum comes out.
"What else can I clean?"
"Well, how about you clean up your kitchen?"
"Oh. Good idea." And another little jump and a spin. (Where did that phrase come from?)

We are in complete joy around here. Productive. Happy. Listening, and coming up with phrases such as, "Thanks." "I will do that." "Yes." "Sure." "How fun."

Three or four months ago he was officially, and consistently, given the 'big boy job' of clearing his dishes from the table after he ate. When he first got to do this task he exhibited the same joy as I mention above. Today, months later this job is no longer fun. It has become a chore and something he needs to be pushed to accomplish at least once a day.

See, there are benefits to only cleaning the house once or twice a week. :)

The Most Important?

Come with me as I wonder around here a bit...

Every time I hear the phrase, "Being a mother is the most important job you'll ever do..." some warning siren goes off in me. It isn't the one that is meant to send me screaming from the room in sheer disagreement nor is it the one that encourages me to speak up and fight. It is more of a gentle, "Pay attention...something isn't quite true for you. You may need to clarify some points." Does the siren alarm for you?

I understand the comment in terms of taking motherhood seriously. It isn't a passing hobby or a fashion accessory. I understand encouraging each other in this role of mother. I even, kind of, understand the movement to "professionalize" motherhood.

Is it really more important than serving the poor? More important than sitting with a grieving family? More important than proclaiming the gospel? More important than caring for our friends? More important than my relationship with my husband? More important than using the gifts God has given me?

But in a recent conversation, what I was getting at, is my frustration to have my voice heard and to use my gifts to stand up in the world.

I take parenting seriously because I want to raise up productive, polite, kind, compassionate, aware kids. We, their parents, are their first resource to help discover their gifts and blessings for this world. This is a part of my calling here on earth.

But the life they create will be their life. My entire voice cannot be given over to just raising them up...because then where have I gone? What good are my own particular gifts and blessings? We grant fathers a space for both in the world, why not women? I don't know that I have ever heard someone tell a dad, "raising your kids is the most important work you'll ever do."

Perhaps, this is just part of a larger frustration with mother's groups. We gather because we are mothers, but it often seems that is the only arena of our lives we wish to make a connection in. I assume we have more to ourselves than just our kids and I would love to hear just a little more about it. I think giving voice to our whole selves would only serve to strengthen our self as, 'mother.'

This morning, as I sip my tea, part of my righteous anger is the silencing effect, the statement, "Motherhood is the most important thing you'll do," has on us. What sirens are going off in you today?


10/23/08 Update: The Paris Project today has a entry that adds to this and the message I was addressing. Dobson on Palin and mothering.

Changing Seasons...when the leaves are staying put

My friend over at The Emmaus Road writes about the changing seasons in her garden. She is ready for a change. As she writes she sticks to the garden, but it got me thinking about the changing season in our lives.

For as far back as I can remember I have been waiting for the next season of my life to begin. For school to start, then summer to come, then school to start...this particular pattern went on until I was 29 or so. When will the snow come? When is the next race? When can I get my ears pierced? When can I wear makeup? When can I drive? When can I vote? When can I drink? When can move away? When can I make my own decisions... How long will we live here? How about here? Here? When to get married? When to have a baby? The next one? When to stop having babies? When to move calls? When to take a new call?

We seem to be in a new season for me. It is called; Staying Put.


I have no idea how to do this.

Getting to Know Me...

Here are two versions of the mass email titled,
"Getting to Know Your Friends and Family."
I am suppose to have fun and be truthful...you decide.

What is your occupation right now? Mom, Pastor and Volunteer
What color are your socks right now? I have bare feet. I rarely wear socks.
What are you listening to right now? My husband is reading "The Seven Postmen" to Big Boy.
What was the last thing you ate? Broccoli, cheese and ham soup.
Can you drive a stick shift? Yes.
Last person you spoke with on the phone? The person who answered the doctor's after hours call service.
Do you like the person who sent this to you? Yes.
How old are you today? 36
What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? No strong feelings on this topic.
What is your favorite drink? If I was told I could only drink one thing for the rest of my life, I would pick iced tea with lots of lemon. Other favorites are tea, coffee, sangria, wine
Have you ever dyed your hair? No.
Favorite food? Pizza.
What is the last movie you watch? Can not remember or retain information that far back.
Favorite day of the year? My kid's birthdays.
How do you vent anger? Yell, slam things, swear, mutter under my breath...healthy stuff.
What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbies.
What is your favorite season? Fall, then Winter.
Cherries or blueberries? Both. Neither are my favorites.
Living arrangements? I have a home. A person I married and children I gave birth to, live there as well.
When was the last time you cried? Yesterday.
What is on the floor or your closet? Dust. Shopping bags. Shoe boxes.
What did you do last night? Went to bed and curled up hoping to feel better in the morning.
Favorite dog breed? Great Danes.
Favorite day of the week? Friday.
How many states have you lived in? (By 'lived in' I read, 'received mail at an address') MN, ND, GA, ID, WV, IL
Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.
What is your favorite flower? Hydrangeas or tulips.

Here's the second "Getting to Know You..."
Were you named after anyone? I don't think so. I share a middle name with my Mom and Grandma.
When was the last time you cried? (Hot topic) Yesterday.
Do you like your handwriting? No.
What is your favorite lunch meat? ahhhh...when pressed I will say, ham.
Do you have kids? Yes.
If you were another person would be friends with you? Yes.
Do use sarcasm a lot? Me? Never?!
Do you still have your tonsils? I think so.
Would you bungee jump? No.
What is your favorite cereal? Honeynut Cheerios.
Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No.
Do you think you are strong? Incredibly.
What is your favorite ice cream? Chocolate.
What is the first thing you notice about people? Their hair and body language.
Red or Pink? Red. (but really neither.)
What is the least favorite thing about yourself? I care too much about what others will think.
Who do you miss the most? My soul mate friends, CT and my family.
What color shoes are you wearing? (again with the foot wear...) I am barefooted.
What was the last thing you ate? (again...) soup. For exact type see above.
What are you listening to? My husband snoring in Big Boy's room.
If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Eggplant. (is that a crayon color or a sweater color at J. Crew?)
Favorite smells? Lemon. Grapefruit. Sunshine. Freshly cut grass. Bonfire smoke.
Hair color? Brownish red.
Eye color? Hazel.
Do you wear contacts? Nope.
Scary movies or happy endings? Must always have a happy ending.
Favorite desert? Creme brule
What books are you reading? Everything Must Change, Blessed to Follow, The Bible (sermon prep)
What did you watch on TV last night? Nothing. (Now during nap time I watched Desperate Housewives online.)
Rolling Stones or Beatles? They are bands, right?
What is the farthest you have been from home? Israel....Peoria. Real distance, and then metaphorical distance.
Do you have a special talent? I can climb hills very fast on skies.
Where were you born? Edina, MN

Weekend Update

If you've been looking for me, and haven't found me or heard from me...I'm sick.

Not sick enough to stop blogging, mind you. Not sick enough to stay in bed. Just sick enough to feel depressed over the week to come. Another week where I had hoped to get organized and have some fun and productivity, will pass me by, and will instead be dedicated to getting us all healthy and just making it through.

I'll see you on the other side of Sickness Week. Coming up next is Potty Training Week. (Yes, it is marked on our calendars as such.) I'll be sure to report back on the preparations of that momentous week.


In other news, my prayers and thoughts are with some friends who just welcomed a new baby into their family. I wish them blessing upon blessing as they discover and adjust to this new life among them.

Peace to you.

Job Security

Over the last eight years I have had poor attendance in regards to my dental care. I have been twice. Once for them to tell me my gums needed a major cleaning and then to have that procedure done.

Today, after a three year absence, I returned to the dentist for an evaluation. It involved an X-ray, checking of my gums and a consult with the dentist over what will need to be done.

When the nurses, hygienists and techs see my records, and hear that I am a negligent patient, they can not hide their glee in their step or conceal the sense of power and superiority in their eyes. "Oh...she's going to be fun. We can really "teach" her about oral health care. Ask her about flossing...maybe, she doesn't know how to brush."

I don't know why I have such a negative attitude about dentists...well, I do know. For some reason my childhood dentist really felt shame was the way to get kids to brush their teeth. I am always suspicion of people who think you can shame others into a good relationship. ( This goes for dentists who tell you how bad your brushing is and make you feel guilty and Pastors who "welcome" you to worship by pointing how often you've been gone.) He also lived with a false notion that cavities were always your fault verses, say, genetics and a predisposition for them. Anyway, I can work this out in therapy later...let's just it leave there and say, I don't really trust dentists.

So, with this open mind and heart, I entered the office. The hygienist assigned to my gum check-up was very snippy and just a little bit on a power trip about what she'd find in my mouth. "My goodness, you really should come in more often. Let's see how bad it is in there..." Lots of sighing and "hand me the number blah, blah tool" later...she got to it. (after she adjusted the light and chair fourteen hundred times.)

Imagine my glee as she called out the numbers for my gum check (you don't want anything over a three) "Three, two, three, two, two, two, two, three..." I could hear the helium being sucked from her attitude with each passing 'two.'

HA!!! Vindication. Sonocare toothbrush to the rescue. (I don't floss. I tell them I do, but I don't--it is all the work of my wonder toothbrush.) No cavities. My teeth and gums are in better shape than three years ago. Double, HA!

Then, I waited to see the doctor to confirm all this information. My watch stopped sometime during this wait so I didn't really realize how long I was waiting--that and let's be honest, I was alone in a quiet room, reclining and looking out the window--waiting really wasn't a problem.

Apparently, I waited longer than they wanted me to and, they have learned something about customer care. As I was leaving, I was given two $5 gift certificates to say "sorry" and "please, let us do this again soon."

You tell me, am I being cynical, or is this an odd gift:

They gave me one gift card to DQ and one to Cold Stone Creamery. My dentist. Ice cream.

Can we say, job security? Or, is it a sense of humor? Or, have I found a dentist that trusts my ability to brush?

Come Back...

Calling all hormones: whomever was responsible for keeping my hair in my head, my eyelashes thick, and my skin clear....please, come back. Your presence in my life was most welcome, and I miss you.




However,

if pregnancy is the only way to that goal...disregard this invitation entirely.

MINE!

As day breaks here, a new chapter unfolds...it shall be titled, "MINE! How to come to grips with the fact you are not the center of the universe."

EG can crawl. It started a week ago. This is what she has been waiting for her whole life. Since she was a little bitty zygote, the girl wanted to move, and up until now her body has been a major source of frustration for her. I WANT TO MOVE, has been her mantra. And now she can.

Her brother, who was just beginning to think that we brought her into the family to be his personal fan base, is not pleased. He spent his day yesterday running around like a crazed chicken trying to keep all the boxes, toys and paper towel rolls (that are used to make any number of imaginary things) out of her hands. "No, no, siser. No, no."

And of course, every toy became his. Her rattle, became a bicycle that he just HAD to have for his city. The toy phone, abandoned months ago for the much cooler cordless model, was a necessity for his communication. After a long heart to heart with Dad in the bedroom, Big Boy did hand over the rattle.

Briefly.

It was a long day and I anticipate it to be a long learning curve. As I look around the world, I realize some of us spend our whole lives learning these lessons. So, perhaps I should cut the kid some slack.

What I Said...

As I thought about today I knew we would hear about Carole’s professional life and the impact her passion, intelligence and tenacity left on the world of faculty development and family medicine. But I, along with the Second Generation of Camp Tummy and my fellow godbrothers and sisters, also wanted to give thanks for the role she had in raising us, inspiring us, and challenging us to be the best version of ourselves. I don’t speak for every one of Carole’s ‘kids’ but I do bring observations from a few of us. Those, that I spoke with often used the word ‘mother’ as they tried to bring words to the depth of our feelings…with that in mind, we are still a bit raw, numb as we try to figure a world without Carole…it is the smallest of things that makes us think of her…chocolate milk or the frozen food aisle in the grocery store, a watch or item of clothing she picked out for us, her email address and the many things we want to forward to her, her voice or smile just comes back to us…here is just some of what we are thankful for…

It seemed we spent a lot of time just watching her. From the time we were little, she was someone we just wanted to be near…to listen to as she led the charge on some topic we didn’t even understand, or watch her body language as she attentively listened to others. My sister has vivid memories of sitting in Carole and Dick’s bathroom near the sinks, watching Carole putting on lotion after lotion and make up…alternating between swigs of Diet Coke and spoonfuls of bran. My earliest memory is brushing her long, long hair…over and over she would sit as I combed and fittled and fussed. As I grew up I could have sat for hours and watched as she and the other women of Camp Tummy got ready in the mornings…they graciously let me enter the mysterious grown up realm of being a woman…as they slathered and curled, supported and pushed, laughed and cried…I listened and absorbed.

What I learned, what each of us learned, as we cuddled up near her or sat across the table, or joined in a board game was: how to be a friend…how to be gracious…that rules shouldn’t stop a good time…that asking ‘Why?’ is ok and should be expected….that assertiveness is not a bad thing when done kindly…how to take care of yourself and not apologize for it….to be genuinely nice, even in the face of pressure and disagreement...to speak your mind and to never get settled or comfortable with your knowledge basis---there is always more to learn and discover.

Of course we wanted to be near her because she granted us the one thing every kid craves growing up…to be treated as an adult. I don’t think it is any secret that babies (at least before she began to have Grand God Children and the third generation of CT came along) babies eluded Carole, in fact when Sarah and Josh and Chad and I each had our second child she was genuinely, deeply concerned for how we could possibly manage two young children, I was thankful for her concern but assured her that it had been done before…it was her way of taking care of us, reminding us to make ourselves a priority. No, she hit her real stride in influencing our lives when we hit 15 or so—from then on she and Dick generously took us in to live with them whether it be during a summer internship or the college years….she took us in and she took us on with gusto...

Perhaps more gusto than we might be ready for…many of us wrote or shared stories of being on the ‘hot seat’ when it came to Carole’s passion to mentor and direct—the learning opportunities weren’t just for her dogs. There are times as you wander through high school and college or graduate school or dating or in marriage…where you just don’t know what the heck is going on, whether you love this person or that person, whether you should go to school or take that job…at those times it wasn’t always comfortable to talk with Carole. If you didn’t have a game plan, and you were dumb enough to let her know that, you best get ready for questions, and a serious problem solving effort on her part. You weren’t leaving her presence without solution. Part of any solution was to get more education and if it were a love situation and education couldn’t fix it then she would…she was big on match making. So if we, her ‘kids,’ felt the gentle and loving pressure, just imagine how those men and women who would marry us felt. (Especially, since most of us found our loves without her help…) Sarah Weaver, married Josh Larson a member of Camp Tummy, and wrote to me saying that while she felt the questions from Carole they never felt like judgment—“they were just encouraging, supporting and hoping to expand where I was with myself and my challenges. After talking with her I felt like any challenges were soon history—I could indeed do what I needed to do….or I would have to answer to Carole at our next family gathering.”

She was there to support us in all our life events…baptisms, confirmations, graduations from HS, College and beyond, our weddings and she was even there to help two f us pick out our wedding dresses—offering her humor and much needed support to our mother and the moment.

But let’s face it, we wanted to be near her because she was cool. She was young at heart. She always had the latest technology or device, she loved star wars and star trek…(although I’m not sure that made her cool—one of her godsons did think I should translate this to klingon in honor of her), was up on the latest movies, read People magazine, she was the first one to jump on the jet ski, she loved to hang out at Disneyworld, she and Dick took fantastic trips where they scuba dived and rode horses and drove around in jeeps, she was always finding the latest and greatest exercise class or spa treatment, she had wonderful, unique dogs—our other siblings, she always had a fast sports car—that she let us drive, she had gorgeous clothes and shoes—that she let me wear, she loved to spent time at the pool—which she shared with everyone, she was extremely generous and she knew it was important to have guess jeans and betton sweaters in Junior High and the latest gadgets to play with…but she also knew that they were just things—people mattered more.

And no matter how close we were to Carole we knew we weren’t the most important one…that spot was reserved solely for Dick—her man. Most of us are in the early stages of marriages and relationships--while we may have watched and hoped to learn from their love affair, we are just beginning to really discover what a special and unique gift they gave each to each other. Theirs is a relationship we would all love to emulate for a day, let alone 40 years. In this world as it is, it is easy to lose sight of how loving we humans can really be, how gracious and devoted…Carole and Dick together modeled this for us and we can only hope in our relationships for a fraction of what they shared.

Carole will be remembered through classes and grants, books and awards, by colleagues and students that have been touched and changed by her influence in their lives…but she will always be present in our lives, and now in the lives of the third generation, those babies she celebrated and delighted in, referred to as her Gran-godkids…she will always be present perhaps not by DNA, but through love, she is woven into our very being...we will do our best to live up to and to live out that love—for it, we are forever changed and most thankful and we will celebrate her with our whole lives.

On the Walk Through Grief...

As this year of anticipatory grief went on I experienced, all of the emotions people are "suppose" to have. Anger, sadness, loss of interest, denial...questions of faith.

One expects, and inevitably accepts, that great-grandparents and grandparents die in their 80's or 90's. It is sad but that sadness is manageable because it is how the cycle of life goes. My godmother died a good 30 years too soon for my liking. I've written before about my anger at God and given much thought to what faith looks like when you and God aren't really on good terms.

I remember during CPE standing face to face with a friend as we professed our absolute faith in God's presence in our lives. No doubts. This story we proclaim is true and real. No uncertainties in the promises God have made to us. We weren't being arrogant, rather thankful for this gift we both shared in the face of so many patients that had doubts.

I see now that perhaps, mine at least, was ill tested. In the following years I would learn first hand what faith looks like in the face of illness, death, addiction, depression, and economic struggle--some came in my own life, most of it in the lives of parishioners. But never did I question my own health and well being.

I now harbor this odd statement in my mind and heart: So, God really does let bad things happen to really, really good people. God really doesn't hold me up as a someone who won't be touched by tragedy. My idyllic life up until now was just, what, a phase? Huh? huh. And if this is true...what's next?

Part of me now lives in vulnerability, waiting for the other spiritual test to arrive. This isn't an all consuming thought...it is merely a new whisper in the back of my mind. It is a new and unfamiliar filter.

In the years to come, as I weave her life into my own and her story becomes one that fills me with joy rather than the current bittersweet after taste of a life too short, I see that this doubt and fear may be a helpful one as I enter other people's journey. It may also be helpful in encouraging me to give thanks and be grateful for the day ahead of me and the people surrounding me.

Someday, may that be the case.