Don't Judge Me

January 1, 2014

Don’t judge me.  You know it has to be bad when that’s how it begins.  Don’t judge me.  Let me start by saying that I made a delicious breakfast for both of the children – a three egg omelet and a bowl of cereal for the growing 12 year old and cereal alone for the seven year old.  I prepared a crock pot full of potato soup that simmered all day to provide a hot nourishing meal for the family.  The kitchen was cleaned – not once, but twice.   Oh!  I almost forgot.  I made a tasty snack for the kids during the afternoon.  So far, so good.  Right?

The Thursday before Christmas I was lying on the couch contemplating the trek upstairs to the bed and feeling like it was much too far to travel.  I thought that it was just the exhaustion of the week and doing too much to prepare for the holidays.  By Friday afternoon I knew I was in trouble and headed over to the walk-in clinic that promptly prescribed me with an antibiotic.  Here is where the first “don’t judge me” comes in (the dreaded use of anti-biotics). 

On Saturday I hosted my entire family for a full holiday meal and the festivities continued from there.  Next came Sunday and a four hour round-trip to Chattanooga for our annual trip to the North Pole via the Polar Express; days of hosting my husband’s family; the Sun’s twelfth birthday, the list goes on.  Yesterday I made returns and exchanges and began the slow packing away of the holiday decorations after church.

It was last night when my body began the protest.  Still fighting an infection, though it is not nearly as bad as it would have been without the antibiotics, I picked up Pei Wei for the family and we spent the evening eating and playing a marathon game of Monopoly.  Today I heard the protests even more.  Exhausted, trying to kick the last remnants of a cough and cold, I took a stand.  I would spend the day at my desk, on the couch or in the bed – or maybe in all three places.  I turned the children loose with the remote control and allowed them unlimited viewing – let’s be real as they are exhausted too!  This is where the second “don’t judge me” comes in.

Living in a home that until this Christmas only had one laptop, one television and one tablet – I can safely say that we typically have healthy boundaries when it comes to media use.  But today, I could no longer fight the good fight and gave in.  If anyone had visited us today they would have found mom and the kids vegged out on the couch watching back to back Disney movies and loving every minute of it.  So, moms (and dads), take a day, just one day, and rest and rejuvenate in whatever way suits you best.  Let the kids have some freedom. Don’t feel the need to entertain them.  Make sure they are safe and fed and diapers changed (if you have young ones) and put your feet up.  Go ahead.  I give you permission.  No judgement.  (written 12-30-13)

“The mark of a successful man (or woman) is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it.”  ~Author Unknown

Searching for Peace

November 19, 2013

The day began early today.  Having gone to bed last night at 8PM, I found myself awake at 3:30.  Unable to go back to sleep, I got up, started beans in the crock-pot for tonight’s dinner and sat down with my coffee to find calmness in these early hours.  On my mind is staying in the present, not allowing others to frustrate me and seeing the positive in all I do.  I was able to stay there for about an hour.  Then, I checked my email and staying positive was out the window.  Or, was it?

As a mom, I constantly tell the children the same things that were told to me. “Ignore people when they are mean or rude.”  Should I tell my children to ignore folks or is it better to shed light on the issues and face them directly?  Do I tell the children to always shine the light?  Is illumination best or does it really just make you focus more on the issue?

If you, my sage readers, have an answer, let me know.   Until then, I am striving for peace but have a flashlight handy.

I Wasn't Prepared for This

November 13, 2013

As a mom I feel I have  been prepared for most things that have come my way.  Premature baby.  Okay.  Emergency surgery for the Sun at age 2.5, stressful but we got it.  International adoption, multiple hospital stays for the Moon, school, last minute homework assignments.  Done, done and done.  Deep breathe.  First middle school dance.  Okay, got it, right?  Nooooooooooo.
I thought I had it.   We had two events last night.  Noah had his first ever dance while Arwyn had her big fall festival at school.  We all dressed appropriately.  Nathan and I dressed casually as we also were on the dance clean up crew.  Arwyn dressed in her Halloween kitty outfit and Noah, as you can see, was dressed to impress.  After the fall festival we dropped Noah at the dance and then hung out in the parking lot with another mom before heading over to Slow and Low for a shared plate of barbecue.  Of course, we didn’t leave the parking lot before peeking in at the dance (helicopter, anyone?)

We arrived in the parking lot at school (did I mention he’s in Catholic school) promptly at 9PM.  The dance was still going and we stood with the other parents watching our kiddos in their own environment.  I can’t help but think I wasn’t the only one staring wistfully and wondering how on earth we got to this point….parents of a infant one day and parents of a middle schooler the next.
I guess you are wondering what the heck the problem is.  This is all okay.  It was…and then…..the lights came on and he came and found us.  I casually said, “Did you have fun?”  “Yes.”  “Did you dance with anyone?”  “Yes.  We slow danced.”  GULP.  In that moment, I knew we had crossed a line.  “Who did you dance with?”  “I’ll tell you in the car.”  Don’t panic.  Take slow – deep – breathes.  Just – keep – breathing.  I turned to Nathan who did not hear the exchange.  “I’m not ready for this.”  It was all I could to to not burst into tears right then and there.

We found out in the car that three girls asked him to dance, which he happily obliged and a group asked him to dance with one of their friends who was too shy to ask.  By that time, the strobe lights and heat had nearly overwhelmed him and he had to sit that one out.  Luckily, they found another cute boy to dance with her.

Now that I am over the shock of having a kid going to a dance, I can look back at last night with joy that I have a smart, handsome kid that was confident enough to go alone to his first dance and is respected enough among his peers to have a gaggle of girls want to dance with him.  There are many moments in my day when the words “Mom fail” come to mind.  Last night was not one of those moments.  I looked over at Nathan as we were driving home, the car quiet with tired children and said, “We did okay.”

“You don’t really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around – and why his parents will always wave back.”  ~William D. Tammeus

Death and Parenting

October 27, 2013

I spent the better part of my teenage years as well as my twenties trying to separate myself from much of my upbringing and am spending my parenting years trying hard to reconnect with it.  It has been since becoming a parent that I have realized the values that were instilled in me and I try to pass much of it on to my children.  Though I am reminded of this regularly, it is in the way we handle chores around the homestead and how we present death that I am perhaps most aware.  Maybe I grew up differently than most or maybe it is just that I am very connected to my Southern roots and look at death through that lens.  I grew up in a small Tennessee town and was born in an even more rural area.  Our neighbors in the area where I was born have names like “Buttermilk” and “Happy” and there is, even today, nothing  but farmland as far as the eye can see.   Folks that grow up on a farm have a different view of the circle of life than those who do not.  And, though my parents moved us away from a life in the country at a young age, they did not leave behind their values and taught us how to celebrate death as well as life.

I guess I am reminded of this as we draw near Halloween, also known as Samhain, as well as All Saints Day.  Not only  that, but the 3rd anniversary of my Mother’s death was last week and each year at this time I am reminded of the day of her passing.  I’m also reminded of how we approach death in our family and in probably many other Southern families as a friend of mine recently lost the family dog after 14 blissful years.  She said the most difficult part was how to explain death to her elementary school age girls.  Like many of the folks in  my life, “she ain’t from around here.”  Sitting with her during a moment of grief reminds me that even in the United States, our cultural values vary and are what brings us together and what distinguishes us as groups.

I can remember going to funerals from a young age, starting with my Grandfather who was “laid out” in the living room in the late 1970′s.  And, like my parents, I took the Sun to his first funeral when he was around the age 3 and we’ve never looked back.  In fact, when we lost our beloved dog two years ago, he put on gloves and boots and assisted Nathan in digging the grave in the backyard before the memorial service.  It is perhaps one of my proudest memories of him and proudest moments as a parent (which I can assure you are usually wanting).

I think I am glad to be reminded of these things and am making a point of truly celebrating the Day of the Dead or All Saints Day.  We will be making preparations to honor on that day all that have gone on before us.  Perhaps you will, too.

“Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life. “ ~John Muir

Camporee

October 26, 2013

Well, after a frantic 30 minutes of packing, my guys are off to the fall Boy Scouts Camporee. I realized yesterday that we are woefully unprepared for the cold that has descended upon Middle Tennessee. I won’t say this is early as many are saying. Those that are saying that are largely “not from around here” and don’t realize that we have this early cold snap every few years. Based on the cool summer temps and the amount of rain that has fallen, I was predicting months ago a rough winter and my prediction was confirmed by the recent release of the Farmer’s Almanac. Even more reason to get us ready. Today as I clean the house and prepare for another week, I’ll be making my winter clothing lists and checking them twice. Judging by the inability to find any matching gloves in the Sun or the Moon’s drawers I am guessing I’ll be stocking up on all new cold weather gear this weekend. As I sit here and stare out the front window on what is surely going to soon be a barren landscape devoid of green or even bright fall colors I wonder if it is too early in the morning to add Bailey’s Irish Cream to my coffee. What do you think?





“Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.” ~Carol Bishop Hipps, “October,” In a Southern Garden, 1995

Line in the Sand

October 16, 2013

After two week of free falling into a pile of emotional mush I have drawn my own proverbial line in the  sand.  I have had tears and tantrums, anger and frustration, moments of panic as I realized I had forgotten something crucial….well, you get the idea. What’s worse is that I didn’t free fall alone. I did it along with my husband and two kids. A duel income family, return to school, sick elderly parent, kids activities and volunteer work (not to mention a blog), makes for a very crazy family bound to fall – and fall hard.

After a lovely weekend and an extra day off on Monday, I stand here today to say that I am drawing my line in the sand. We are taking back our lives from the crazy modern day world. We will find peaceful moments and instances of harmony each and every day.

Do you have a line in the sand? Do you know what it is? At what point do you stand (or sit) and say, “my family is worth too much, our relationships too valuable, to go on like this.” My point was another weekend with too many commitments and not enough time. Draw your line in the sand today. Go on. I dare you.

Because

Love this photo. I painted the Moon’s face and then we headed out for Pop’s b’day at our favorite Irish pub!

An Act of Love

June 14, 2014

I love to garden.  Ornatmentals, flowering, vegetable.  It really doesn’t matter.  We had a beautiful yard in our last home  Granted, it was less than a quarter of an acre, so it wasn’t that hard to have a beautiful yard.  But, try as I might, I never could get it quite, well, perfect.  It was never that Southern Living yard I so desperately wanted to have.  Then we moved.  Working, an adoption, the death of a mother, volunteer responsibitlities…yada, yada….we never could put the time into this yard that we put into the other.

Until now.

I’m on the countdown to the end of my work commitment, getting ready to homeschool and doing one of the things I love – gardening.  We quadrupled the size of the yard in this home which means, for me, striving for perfection is akin to insanity. I’ve known this for a long time but it wasn’t really until I was working in my new vegetable garden last week I had the time and the quiet moments to reflect upon this.

If you had wandered into that backyard during that meditative hour, you would have found me squatting among the rows, thinking of my grandfather who was a sharecropper and wondering how much of him lives in me.  I was thinking not only of him but primal nature we all have to dig in the dirt and this movement among all industrialized nations – but especially the U.S. – to create urban homesteads and to reconnect with our food source.  Victory gardens (remember your history) are popping up on postage size backyards, on rooftops in large cities, on unclaimed and abandoned lots and here in my own beautiful and less than perfect backyard.

This summer, we will be transforming this space.  It may never be perfect, unless it is perfectly wild like nature and like my own nature, but it is a source of great joy for our entire family.  Gotta go!  Nature is calling.