I realized something today while preparing some future blog posts--in some ways, by posting my own photo and first name, as well as my children's names and photos, I have "identified" myself. Now, I'm not sure there's enough info on this blog about me to actually FIGURE OUT who I am, but nonetheless I am more exposed today than I was, say, a month ago.
I don't like the idea of blogging behind a screen and constantly wearing "masks"--it feels unrelatable, and I'm sure it can feel like that to the reader as well.
But as I sat down tonight to start writing the nitty gritty of my experiences with the Catholic Church, I realized that some day someone I know COULD find this blog. How? I don't know... but it's possible. And if that happens, how would they feel about what they read, especially if there is an allusion (without directly naming) to them?
I'm trying to write my heart and yet I'm censoring it... and I don't know how I feel about that. I know that exposure makes me feel vulnerable, but exposure also makes me feel welcomed (if that makes sense).
Just my thoughts on blogging tonight. Stay tuned, though, I've got some good things on the horizon...
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
Getting comfortable with one another.
Last night something blatantly obvious knocked me over the head. I'm not sure that there's a word or two for it, though, so I'll describe the scenario:
It was a long, fun day at an amusement park to celebrate Bebe's 8th birthday. We'd come home, put the sleeping children in their rooms, and were going about the evening's tasks (prepping lunches for the next day, making quick small dinners for ourselves, etc.). D and I were both in the kitchen. I was packing lunches and he was making soup in the crock pot for tonight's dinner. I placed a container for Bebe's lunch on the counter, went to the fridge and opened it to grab a few items. Left the fridge door opened, to return to it for more after putting things on the counter, and as I was walking to the counter and D was walking from the kitchen to the dining room, he nudged the fridge door shut with his foot. No big deal, I re-opened it, and got out what I needed, and closed it again. Went looking for a knife to cut the bread with, and saw D had left a tomato-juice-and-seed-covered knife on our white tile counter. I deposited it into the sink and wiped off the spot. Not two minutes later, the toaster oven dinged, and D came in to get his toast. "Where's my knife?" he asked. "What knife?" "The one that was laying here. I was going to use it to butter my toast." Whoops.
I remember reading a book when I was a teenager that spoke of a couple who was so in love that they "finished each other's sentences." I thought it was SUCH a sweet concept. But now when D finishes my sentences, it pisses me off. Why? Because 80% of the time, what he completes my sentence with is NOT what I was going to say! I confess, though, that I do it to him, too.
We also seem to "complete" each other's actions, as mentioned above. Sometimes, though, our motivation is not loving but critical. Last night when diapering Dois in the car before heading home from the park, D put his diaper on too loose. Without giving him a second to adjust it, I reached over and started to fix it. I ASSumed he wasn't going to. I made the inference that D never gets his diapers "just tight enough" and if I want it right, I need to do it. After coming home from work/school/daycare, I leave the laundry bag of dirty diapers from daycare at the bottom of the steps. The plan is to bring them up on my first trip up, which is usually when putting Dois to bed. Well, D comes home before Dois is in bed, snatches up the bag with a huff and runs it upstairs. He ASSumed that I wouldn't bring it upstairs on my own.
Our chores every weekend are divided easily between D and I. With yesterday's trip to the amusement park, all of our weekend chores needed to be done on Sat. AND we had to go to Mass. AND D had promised Bebe a trip to the pool to try out her new snorkel. The day went by SO FAST and when it was done, two tasks usually designated for D were not done. These are tasks that I HATE to do (and he knows that, which is why they're his!) and task that, honestly, could've gone un-done for another week with no problems. But on Saturday night I was on a roll, and decided to do all the things I needed to do, as well as his tasks as well. The result? Me feeling accomplished, and D feeling elated (his love language is Acts of Service) when he came home to see EVERYTHING was done.
It's easy when you're so USED to a person's actions and mannerisms to feel like they're so predictable. But assuming they're predictable can hurt if you don't give them a chance to ever show if/how they've changed.
I'm so glad that D and I have reached an acceptable level of comfortability (yes I made that word up) for us... as long as he stops trying so hard to complete my sentences!!
(I loved this post so much, I decided that I'd like to blog more about marriage. So keep your eye out for a new series I'm calling Marriage In Mind Mondays!)
It was a long, fun day at an amusement park to celebrate Bebe's 8th birthday. We'd come home, put the sleeping children in their rooms, and were going about the evening's tasks (prepping lunches for the next day, making quick small dinners for ourselves, etc.). D and I were both in the kitchen. I was packing lunches and he was making soup in the crock pot for tonight's dinner. I placed a container for Bebe's lunch on the counter, went to the fridge and opened it to grab a few items. Left the fridge door opened, to return to it for more after putting things on the counter, and as I was walking to the counter and D was walking from the kitchen to the dining room, he nudged the fridge door shut with his foot. No big deal, I re-opened it, and got out what I needed, and closed it again. Went looking for a knife to cut the bread with, and saw D had left a tomato-juice-and-seed-covered knife on our white tile counter. I deposited it into the sink and wiped off the spot. Not two minutes later, the toaster oven dinged, and D came in to get his toast. "Where's my knife?" he asked. "What knife?" "The one that was laying here. I was going to use it to butter my toast." Whoops.
I remember reading a book when I was a teenager that spoke of a couple who was so in love that they "finished each other's sentences." I thought it was SUCH a sweet concept. But now when D finishes my sentences, it pisses me off. Why? Because 80% of the time, what he completes my sentence with is NOT what I was going to say! I confess, though, that I do it to him, too.
We also seem to "complete" each other's actions, as mentioned above. Sometimes, though, our motivation is not loving but critical. Last night when diapering Dois in the car before heading home from the park, D put his diaper on too loose. Without giving him a second to adjust it, I reached over and started to fix it. I ASSumed he wasn't going to. I made the inference that D never gets his diapers "just tight enough" and if I want it right, I need to do it. After coming home from work/school/daycare, I leave the laundry bag of dirty diapers from daycare at the bottom of the steps. The plan is to bring them up on my first trip up, which is usually when putting Dois to bed. Well, D comes home before Dois is in bed, snatches up the bag with a huff and runs it upstairs. He ASSumed that I wouldn't bring it upstairs on my own.
Our chores every weekend are divided easily between D and I. With yesterday's trip to the amusement park, all of our weekend chores needed to be done on Sat. AND we had to go to Mass. AND D had promised Bebe a trip to the pool to try out her new snorkel. The day went by SO FAST and when it was done, two tasks usually designated for D were not done. These are tasks that I HATE to do (and he knows that, which is why they're his!) and task that, honestly, could've gone un-done for another week with no problems. But on Saturday night I was on a roll, and decided to do all the things I needed to do, as well as his tasks as well. The result? Me feeling accomplished, and D feeling elated (his love language is Acts of Service) when he came home to see EVERYTHING was done.
It's easy when you're so USED to a person's actions and mannerisms to feel like they're so predictable. But assuming they're predictable can hurt if you don't give them a chance to ever show if/how they've changed.
I'm so glad that D and I have reached an acceptable level of comfortability (yes I made that word up) for us... as long as he stops trying so hard to complete my sentences!!
(I loved this post so much, I decided that I'd like to blog more about marriage. So keep your eye out for a new series I'm calling Marriage In Mind Mondays!)
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The "other child"
Haha. I feel bad because the last 3 posts have starred Bebe, and I have yet to introduce you to my other child, Dois.
Without further ado, introducing the child otherwise known as "Dois", my little man, Luca.
Let me tell you about this boy. He is that "zen baby" that typically follows a "spirited" child. A few months after he was born, D actually commented, "If I had known he'd be this easy, we would've had him years ago!" Apparently, he was anticipating another high-needs child. He's very laid-back in general, and it is pretty easy to meet his needs (once you figure out what they are--THAT can be challenging).
He is ALL BOY. When he was born and I was told we had a son, I figured, "Hey I can do this." Bebe's always been a bit of a tomboy so I figured he'd be a lot like her as he got older. Whoooo boy, was I wrong! First, he's been the king of gas for as long as I can remember. That's a boy thing. Farting like a grown man at only a few weeks old... he put his father to shame. Secondly, he's very physical. When he was only 10 months old, any little frustration (toy wasn't doing what he wanted, was bored, etc.) and he would smack himself in the head. I was terrified that I was raising a psychopath, ESPECIALLY when he'd look me dead in the eyes and then do it as if to say, "Come on, try and stop me." Thankfully, this phase has passed as he's getting more verbal--but still, he's very physical in other ways. He loves to run, jump, army crawl, spin around in circles, etc. He's constantly in motion. At this age/stage, Bebe was more clingy than anything. He's a snuggly boy when he wants to be, but in general, he wants to be DOWN and GOING!
He is going to give me gray hair. Over Labor Day weekend, we went to a BBQ and pool party at a friend's house. There was a moment where D thought I had him and I thought D had him. I leaned over the pool to talk to Bebe and the next thing I hear is SPLASH! and see him in the water--wearing his clothes, diaper, and sandals... AND PADDLING HIMSELF! He kept himself above water for the 5 seconds or so for someone in the pool to grab him. It was the strangest thing to see--I was panicked but at the same time totally calm because HE WAS SWIMMING (at 21 months, wearing clothes, a cloth diaper, and shoes)... guess our weekly trips to the swimming pool ARE doing something!
I think we have a future artist on our hands. He spends at least an hour a day, every day, like this:
We are so blessed that (some weeks) at Mass, all it takes is a few crayons and a blank book to keep him occupied. He draws squiggles and attempts circles. It is the most adorable thing, and we have a growing collection of his artwork already!
We're so glad he's a part of our family. We didn't know what we were missing until he arrived!
Without further ado, introducing the child otherwise known as "Dois", my little man, Luca.
Let me tell you about this boy. He is that "zen baby" that typically follows a "spirited" child. A few months after he was born, D actually commented, "If I had known he'd be this easy, we would've had him years ago!" Apparently, he was anticipating another high-needs child. He's very laid-back in general, and it is pretty easy to meet his needs (once you figure out what they are--THAT can be challenging).
He is ALL BOY. When he was born and I was told we had a son, I figured, "Hey I can do this." Bebe's always been a bit of a tomboy so I figured he'd be a lot like her as he got older. Whoooo boy, was I wrong! First, he's been the king of gas for as long as I can remember. That's a boy thing. Farting like a grown man at only a few weeks old... he put his father to shame. Secondly, he's very physical. When he was only 10 months old, any little frustration (toy wasn't doing what he wanted, was bored, etc.) and he would smack himself in the head. I was terrified that I was raising a psychopath, ESPECIALLY when he'd look me dead in the eyes and then do it as if to say, "Come on, try and stop me." Thankfully, this phase has passed as he's getting more verbal--but still, he's very physical in other ways. He loves to run, jump, army crawl, spin around in circles, etc. He's constantly in motion. At this age/stage, Bebe was more clingy than anything. He's a snuggly boy when he wants to be, but in general, he wants to be DOWN and GOING!
He is going to give me gray hair. Over Labor Day weekend, we went to a BBQ and pool party at a friend's house. There was a moment where D thought I had him and I thought D had him. I leaned over the pool to talk to Bebe and the next thing I hear is SPLASH! and see him in the water--wearing his clothes, diaper, and sandals... AND PADDLING HIMSELF! He kept himself above water for the 5 seconds or so for someone in the pool to grab him. It was the strangest thing to see--I was panicked but at the same time totally calm because HE WAS SWIMMING (at 21 months, wearing clothes, a cloth diaper, and shoes)... guess our weekly trips to the swimming pool ARE doing something!
I think we have a future artist on our hands. He spends at least an hour a day, every day, like this:
We're so glad he's a part of our family. We didn't know what we were missing until he arrived!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Training up our children.
"Train the young in the way they should go;
even when old, they will not swerve from it."
(Proverbs 22:6, NAB)
Were you bullied as a child? I was. I don't want to touch personally on my experiences right now (that will come at a later date, I promise), but I want to talk about my experience as a mom on the flip side (the "mom side") of the coin.
Bebe is a beautiful child. Not just aesthetically beautiful, but her soul is beautiful. She has such a bright spirit, and the thing that we love most about her is how non-judgmental she is. She discriminates against no one. She wants to play with everyone and be friends with everyone. She has never spoken a negative word against another child. It's just not in her to do so.
Unfortunately, we're all quite aware that not all children are this way. I wish they were, because it would make life so much easier. But that's not how it is. Instead, she endures the criticism of others, the ostracism due to being friends with so-and-so, and the rejection from those children who DO choose to be selective about their friends and who they play with.
Her spirit is weakening... not in a way that she's changing who she is, but the smile on her face is fading faster and faster. Her peers are wearing her down. This morning she bounded into the before-school program to share the Moshi Monster figures she got as a birthday present, including one of the ultra-rare ones. She was SO EXCITED to show her friends, but when she whipped out the bag, she misspoke the name of the ultra-rare character, and instantly another child corrected her rudely. I could see her crumple inside. You know, just in that moment I could see her excitement turn off. It made me want to cry. It made me want to go over and scream at reprimand the child. It is so hard for me to control my "bleeding heart" when I experience my child being treated like I was as a child. Instead, I called her over, and told her she did not have to be treated that way. I asked her to please speak up for herself, even with a simple, "Sorry, I made a mistake--don't you ever make mistakes??"
On my way to work, I finished up the Rosary we started praying on our way to morning care. I prayed it with all of my heart, asking God to please watch over her and help her continue to be who she is. To guide D and I in raising her to know that who she is is a very valuable person. And to enable the other children to see how their words and actions hurt others.
I'm not a perfect mom by any means, but if there's one thing I want to get right, it's that Bebe grows up knowing that she is special (but not more special than anyone else!), she is loved, and that she is good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)